Under my skin
by Monchy
Summary: ObiWan is haunted by strange dreams, and he'll find behind them much more than he expected. ObixAni slash. AU.
1. ObiWan Kenobi

A/N: first of all, this is an AU in which Anakin is not a Jedi. As for who he is... well, you'll see.

Yes, I'm back already! I had the idea for this fanfic before I started writing Somos lo que somos, I just wasn't quite sure what to do with it. Well, I've been working on this first chapter for the past three weeks or so, so let's see what comes out of this.

Here we go again!

Monchy

* * *

**Under my skin**

"And Oh my dreams

it's never quite like it seems" Dreams, The Cranberries

_Chapter I: Obi-Wan Kenobi_

_The only sound that filled the place was that of his own hurried steps, the soles of his boots producing a deafening echo that went through the dark while he ran. Nevertheless, the incessantblow of his feet against the floor seemed unimportant compared to the pounding of his own head, which ran faster than his feet with just one idea repeating itself over and over again: run._

_Run away._

_Run away._

_RUN AWAY._

_He looked back, feeling his own hair shoot to his sides and stick back to his sweaty forehead. There was nothing behind him, just the same darkness that surrounded the lost place he was in, but the feeling of danger followed him. He made his steps quicker, pressing unconsciously the hand he was holding with his own. The boy._

_Who are you?_

_Who?_

_Run away._

_The hand was hot and his fingers felt soft entwined with his own, even while pressing them strongly. He looked back again, trying to ask a question, but his lips moved uselessly, incapable of abandoning a word. Who? But there was no answer. The boy's eyes stayed fixed on his back, shining an intense blue, more noticeable due to the lack of light, his lips opened and closed continuously mouthing... his name? Yes, his name._

_Obi-Wan._

_Obi-Wan._

_Obi-Wan..._

_He couldn't hear his voice, but he knew it was filled with fear and doubt. The boy didn't want to run away, he didn't know if he should, but his fingers were firm between his and the echo of his steps mixed with his own, keeping a constant hard sound. The boy was following him. Him._

_Me? Yes, Obi-Wan you._

_Forever._

_Run away._

_Run away._

_OBI-WAN._

Obi-Wan opened his eyes the same instant his body sat on the bed with a fast an unconscious move, his agitated breathing starting to calm down while his hands rested on his naked stomach, looking for something that told him that he was awake and not drowning in the confusion of an invented world. When his body seemed to calm down, adjusting to the environment that was his empty and dark room, he took his hands to his hair, gripping it strongly while sighing. He took away the covers that tangled around his legs and walked to the bathroom, turning on the light and splashing some cold water on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror, watching little drops sliding down his face to his chest and took one hand to the circles under his eyes.

The same dream had been repeating itself every night in his head for an uncountable time now, but the most unusual part of the situation was that it was him, Obi-Wan Kenobi, the one sufferingit. He had never been akin to dreaming, prophetically or not, but this one in particular had crossed every barrier he had tried setting. It wasn't real, _it couldn't be_. The idea of dark place and an invisible presence was absurd, but Obi-Wan couldn't say no to the idea of symbolism.

And then there was the boy. A young man, tall, with blue eyes, luscious lips and slightly effeminate features, big hands with long fingers and blonde curls that fell ruffled over his forehead when he ran. But who was he? A product of his imagination or someone he hadn't met? He didn't knew, but there was something, an important connection and an almost primitive necessity of protection.

Obi-Wan shook his head, taking his fingers to his lips to avoid a sigh and went back to bed. He would have to talk to Yoda, even if he only got a cryptic message out of it.

* * *

Obi-Wan flinched involuntarily when he heard the yelling coming from the Chancellor's office. A strong female voice sounded contradicted, almost offended, but the Chancellor's slow and deep voice stayed calmed, almost cold. He didn't bother knocking before entering the office, after all, he had been summoned andeverybody looked too focused on their own discussion to notice him.

His eyes stopped almost unconsciously on the woman. Padmé Amidala. She was just like the memory he had in his head, small and delicate, dark but bright eyes, fragile. Obi-Wan found himself comparing her with a porcelain doll, perfect, adorned with the best hairdos, jewels and dresses, slightly unreal. Her character, tough, was far from being that of a doll.

"... I understand your arguments Chancellor, but I believe I'm capable of judging the security I need, and I repeat I find completely futile that the Jedi Order spends time on me," Padmé leaned a small but firm hand on Chancellor Palpatine's table. "I appreciate your good intentions masters, but I must insist that my own security service is more than enough."

The senator's eyes went this time to masters Yoda and Windu, who had stayed outside the conversations until now. Master Yoda's eyes were fixed on Padmé, but it was Windu who spoke, taking one step to the front, imposing his height over the small senator.

"We are conscious that you don't want our protection senator, but there had been three attempts against your life and, even when we don't doubt the efficiency of your security service, you must understand that your life is important for the Republic and that we must do everything we can to keep you safe," Padmé turned slightly towards the door, enough for Obi-Wan to distinguish her heavy dress falling around a rounded belly, which the senator protected unconsciously with a firm hand.

"I am aware of the importance of my life master Windu, but also of the need so many people have of the Jedi knights. The idea of you staying by my side when we're in the middle of a war seems unfair," that was the moment Obi-Wan chose to make his presence noticeable, coughing softly and taking a few steps into the room.

"Ah, master Kenobi."

"Chancellor," Obi-Wan offered Palpatine a forced smile and walked to master Windu, giving him and Yoda a slight head move as salute. "Senator Amidala, it's a pleasure to see you again."

"Obi-Wan," Padmé took the hand Obi-Wan offered her, smiling slightly. "It's been a long time."

"Ten years, if I'm nor mistaken," Obi-Wan's eyes looked unconsciously at the senator's belly, but she was too focused on studying the features of the one he had known as Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan to notice.

"If my deductions are correct, I believe it's your intentions for master Kenobi to be my protection, am I right?" the question was thrown to the air, but Padmé's eyes stayed on Obi-Wan's, who simply smiled.

"I'm afraid I'm the most uninformed in the room senator, but I think your deductions are correct."

"We thought he would be the best choice," all eyes went to the Chancellor, who stood up from his chair with a grimace that didn't reach a smile. "After all, he is an old acquaintance of yours and master Kenobi is one of the best men of the Order."

"That's precisely why I think he should be handling more important business, Chancellor."

"I understand your point senator," started Obi-Wan, offering a thankful smile to the Chancellor for the compliment. "But your voice and vow may save more lives than my lightsaber. Your protection should be one of the priorities of the Republic."

"But–"

"Senator," master Yoda took one step towards her, the simple sound of his voice more imposing than anybody's presence. "The future clouded is and your vow we cannot loose. Master Kenobi in charge will be of your protection."

Padmé opened her mouth, willing to fight, but she stopped before she said a thing. The Chancellor and the Order agreed in the ridiculous idea of her protection, so she would have to obey and accept the offering.

"As you wish, although I still disagree. I'm not installed yet, so I guess tomorrow would be a good time to receive you, master Kenobi," Padmé lowered her head slightly, and Obi-Wan returned de gesture. "Masters, Chancellor."

* * *

Obi-Wan sat on one of the couches, facing Yoda. He watched the little master climb to the seat and get comfortable, wondering why this room was always almost dark, the only light filtering in bright white rays, one of them illuminating master Yoda's eyes. Being a youngling, he had asked Qui-Gon about it, and he had told him that Yoda only did it to be mysterious. Obi-Wan had laughed and had ignored the comment, but he was starting to think that it was the actual true reason.

"Troubled you are, Obi-Wan," said the master, resting both hands of his lap and leaving his cane next to him. "Dreams haunt you."

"I don't understand it master, I've never had premonitions, but this one breaks through all myshields and I just don't know what it means."

"Premonition?" Obi-Wan nodded softly, taking a hand to his chin.

"Not exactly. I don't think the dream is real but I believe it means something. And then there's him, he seems very real," Yoda arched a white eyebrow and half closed his eyes. "I don't know who he is, but there is always a young man there," Yoda nodded.

"Dangerous dreams are, Obi-Wan. Forget you must, meditate," Obi-Wan was about to speak, but Yoda stopped him with a direct look. "Real or not it might be, but find out you should not. The future we can't control, play with change we must not."

"Yes, master."

* * *

The wind ruffled his reddish hair and lifted his cape, but Obi-Wan's eyes stayed closed, his expression relaxed and open, his hands resting on his knees. Sinking in the immensity of the Force was easy, he simply had to let go between invisible hands until reaching that white room where there was only him in connection with all living thing. Meditating. Forgetting. But the young features of that unknown face stayed inside his head, as if they had been marked with fire. Master Yoda had told him to fight against the unreality, Obi-Wan knew he had to do so, but there was something that made him grasp the fantasy his mind had conceived. The danger, the running, the darkness, everything seemed unimportant, but the young face and the soft touch of a hand lingered inside him.

The Force went through his body quickly, sending him to an absolute calm in a short but intense instant. He imagined a relieved sigh and wondered if his body would receive it, even when he knew his features would not make a move while he was in trance. A white and bright room that meant peace for him. The Force was mysterious and different for every sentient being, so the place in which he rested during his meditation was a subconscious choice, the perfect place and yet, this time it wasn't.

Obi-Wan looked at the brown door in front of him, wondering if leaving the place, _his place_, would be prudent. Swimming in the Force in an unconscious way was not only dangerous, it also held the risk of getting lost, but before he could react, his hand, _or the idea of his hand_, turned the old handle and opened the door,allowing him to seea black hallway. Taking one step to the front was a bad idea, but when the door disappeared behind him he couldn't help but surprise. Now, _that_, was not good. He lowered his eyes to his body, incapable of distinguishing his own hands in the darkness. He inhaled deeply, feeling cold air go into his mouth and fill his lungs, getting out then as white fog. He put his arms around his chest and started walking forward, following an invisible straight line, only guided by a spot of bright light that illuminated a far place.

He couldn't be sure of when exactly he started running, he just felt his own ragged breathing, his hard steps against the floor. He stopped. In front of him, tall and imposing, was the figure of… of…

Anakin.

The name left his lips unconsciously but he, _Anakin_, walked towards him with firm steps. One, two, three, and he was as close as he could be without touching him. The air left Obi-Wan's lungs, his feet stayed rooted to the spot, his firm hands started to shake and his eyes got lost inside the blue orbs in front of him. The hand of the stranger, the young man, _Anakin_, went to his face, but didn't touch him. Obi-Wan's lips parted by inertia, his chest recovering the capacity of movement and starting to ascend and descend strongly. One of the fingers of _his_ hand went to Obi-Wan's lower lip,leaving only the tip softly, a simple touch and then, a pang of desire. Obi-Wan allowed the sensation to fill him, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch, smiling imperceptibly when a second finger started caressing the skin of his lip. Obi-Wan felt the other body get closer, the soft face descend and caress his cheek with soft lips and reach his ear, allowing him to hear a deep voice for the first time: Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan.

"Obi-Wan!" Obi-Wan's eyes opened brutally, offering him a clouded vision of reality.

"Master Kenobi?" Obi-Wan opened his mouth, incapable of saying a word, of distinguishing reality from dream, feeling suddenly tired. Ho took one hand to his head, feeling a hot liquid descend down his cheek. Blood? Perhaps. "Master Kenobi?"

"A... Anakin," he whispered and, seconds later, there was only blackness.

* * *

The piercing pain localised in his head was enough to tell Obi-Wan that he was awake. He groaned softly, taking one hand to his forehead and massaging it instinctively, feeling the bright light of the room behind his shut eyelids.

"You're awake," Mace Windu's voice entered his head, multiplying itself and pounding against his bones. It felt pretty much like having a hangover. "Are you alright?"

"Ugh… not so loud, please," Obi-Wan opened his eyes, regretting it the moment the yellow phosphorescent of the hospital room reached his retinas. "What happened?" he asked, feeling his throat dry and raspy.

"You had a bit of an episode, the healers believe you got momentarily lost in the Force," Obi-Wan blinked, focusing his half opened eyes on Mace's face and not the light. "A too intense trance."

"Right, I was meditating."

"Are you alright Obi-Wan? You've been distant lately and I saw you talking with Yoda this morning, is something upsetting you?" Obi-Wan tried to smile, but his head was too focused on its pain to actually move his muscles.

"I just have some things in my mind Mace."

"Some Anakin guy perhaps?"

"Anakin? An…," yes, he remembered. The boy. Anakin. "I still don't know who he is."

"Still?" Mace crossed his arms over his chest, a typical posture he used to take to intimidate the younglings.

"I may never find out, I don't know if he actually exists."

"I think you need to rest," Obi-Wan started to complain, but Mace offered him a hard look. "We need you up and about to take charge of senator Amidala's protection."

"Alright, but just this time," Mace just smiled and, with a last look, he left the room.

Anakin. Or at least that was the way the Force had called him. Obi-Wan remembered all the episode now, the imposing figure, the touch of his fingers against his lips, his body, his voice, his smell and that stab of desire. Saying that was unconventional was an understatement, after all, Obi-Wan had gone through that kind of trouble during his adolescence. Then again, besides that little crush on his master, he had never _needed_ someone. Until now.

A too young stranger whose existence he couldn't assure. He had to find this Anakin.

* * *

Yey! I can't believe I'm starting another fanfic already... but yey! anyway. 


	2. Anakin Skywalker

**Lincoln Six Echo: **thanks!

**TempleMistress: **oh, yes, I want to have that dreams too (well, at least we can write them) Yes, so many questions, but I won't tell you a thing (no, I'm not evil, I just want you to keep reading). Thank you very much, as always. (I don't think I have recovered from Somos, either, but hey! Here we are)

**Captain Starseeker:** it's great that you're as excited about this as I am, you're screaming of how much you're going to love love love this is very encouraging. I'll do a fantastic job on this? God, I hope so. Thank you! (It's great to have you here)

**Xtinethepirate: **here is the sexy jedi man, right on this chapter! Thank you very much... I'm excited about this fanfic, it's going to be so hard... But anyway, thanks again!

**Phoenix Red Lion:** thank you very much!

**darthaquafina: **thank you!

* * *

_Chapter II: Anakin Skywalker_

"… life is a dream,

and dreams, are dreams." _La vida es sueño_, Calderón de la Barca

Running was easy, and that is why Anakin did it. The muscles of his legs stretched continuously, marking a rhythm his arms copied to keep the balance of his body, the fall of his feet against the floor filled him, the wind filtered through his curly hair, ruffling it, sweat started to descend down his body, small drops decorating his neck and sliding to his chest, his breath got agitated, taking a fast but stable rhythm, air entering through his nose and going out through his parted lips, a slight flush colored his cheeks.

Running was easy. No games, no rules, no pressure, just the floor and his feet against it, nobody else, no politics, no war or power, a moment and a place in which it didn't matter what Anakin was or what he had been, where no one judged him. One foot in front of the other, continuously, simple, no problems, no importance, an echo in his ears, his eyes closed and his mind blank.

The breeze was strong today, a cold wave against his sweated skin. He kept running. Coruscant was a big, modern city, but it lacked natural, calm places. Anakin hated it. Its official buildings, the constant noise of the vehicles crossing the sky and the lights that never seemed to fade. He missed dark, silent nights in which he could forget about the rest of the world and rest. Nevertheless, among the metallic riot that was the city, there were the gardens in which he ran now, a place filled with reds and green, lacking that bright white that consumed the rest of the place. It reminded him of some of the natural sights of Naboo, even whenit didn't resemble them, but he liked to think that he could take some of the easygoing essence of the planet in it.

Anakin started to feel his muscles resent, his bones complain, but he kept running. The tension in his muscles was noticeable, that sensation that would make his body go numb once he stopped his movement.

He felt the cramp before he heard the crack of his knee, but still, his body precipitated forward when his legs failed him and his strength left him. He cursed loudly and took one hand to his calf, arching it then in the position that would stop the piercing pain. He had overstepped his limits, again. He pulled the leg of his pants up and massaged the damaged zone softly, exhaling hard and trying to recover the natural rhythm of his breathing.

"I see you don't allow yourself one minute to rest, young Skywalker," Anakin looked at his sudden visitor, smiling when he recognised the voice, incapable of giving any other answer as salute. "I'll let you catch your breath, boy."

The Chancellor pressed his lips in a grin that resembled a smile and sat on one of the stone seats that surrounded the path Anakin had followed during his race. Anakin nodded, taking his eyes back to his leg and making sure that his knee was fine.

Padmé didn't like the Chancellor and she didn't hide it. Anakin, tough, found the man pleasant and much more interesting that any of the silly politicians she liked so much. The Chancellor was an austere man, kind of mysterious, he had an almost dark presence and an a sharp intelligence. Anakin had liked him immediately, and the Chancellor seemed to enjoy his presence, even when he wasn't someone of importance.

"Good afternoon Chancellor," said Anakin finally, standing up and sitting next to Palpatine. "How was the meeting?"

"Your wife has a very strong character Anakin, but she accepted our dispositions. After all, we can't abandon a pregnant senator when she is being threatened by merciless murderers," Palpatine entwined the fingers of his hands, putting them on his lap and looking at Anakin with half closed eyes.

"Thank you Chancellor."

"Don't thank me, I'm just doing what's best for the Republic. You know I don't trust the Jedi Order, but when we are talking about protection nobody can assure it as they can," Palpatine stood up, putting his hands behind his back and pacing in front of Anakin, who just frowned.

"Excuse me if I'm being insolent, but I thought the Senate trusted the Jedi Knights."

"You know you can talk about anything with me Anakin, I'm nothing more than a friend, alright?" Anakin half smiled, nodding humbly. "The Jedi Order is corrupt. Power consumes them and I believe we need to keep them limited… the most powerful men of the world are part of their Council and we can't let them use that power against us, now can we?"

"I…," Anakin shrugged, taking in the Chancellor's words. "I'm sorry Chancellor, I'm afraid I don't really understand politics."

"And that is why I trust you more than anybody else, boy."

* * *

Anakin entered the house and started avoiding Padmé's handmaidens. How many where they anyway? Seven, eight? And all of them with names that ended in an e. Anakin had never been able to distinguish them which, having in mind that they were always there when he was having a conversation with Padmé, couldn't be recommendable.

He walked to the couch were Padmé sat, offering her a smile when he met her brown eyes.

"You're here," Anakin sat next to Padmé, reaching for her hands only to be rejected. "Anakin, you're sweaty," of course, lately there was always a reason not to touch him. "Anyway… it seems you got what you wanted, I'll have a Jedi with me twenty four seven," Padmé stood up, taking one hand to her belly instinctively.

"I know," she took her eyes to Anakin, frowning. "I spoke to the Chancellor."

"Of course."

"I know you don't like him, but–"

"No buts! I'm your wife after all, you should trust my judgement."

"I'm not asking you to like him, what are you going to do? Forbid me to see him as if I was five?" Anakin crossed his arms over his chest, stubborn. How many times had they had the same discussion?

"He might be trying to influence me through you, why would a man like him what to spend his time with–"

"With who? Senator Amidala's young and innocent husband? Yes, I guess I'm not even worth it for a conversation," this time it was Anakin who stood up, fisting his hands.

"Don't be melodramatic sweetheart, you're the one who insist on hiding your conversations with him from me."

"I don't hide them, but they don't have anything to do with you, then again, I guess you don't really understand the meaning of privacy," Anakin pointed around him, making her notice her handmaidens, but Padmé didn't react.

"We already discussed that."

"No, you discussed it and decided you were right," Padmé started to reply, but Anakin interrupted her before she could say a thing. "Padmé, I know you're a senator and I'm… I'm nobody, and I know we are going through some hard times, but we're supposed to be a family, right?"

The change in Padmé was automatic. Her hand surrounded her belly and her eyes became softer while a smile started to form on her lips. She nodded, walking towards Anakin and leaning on him a little.

"Everything seems harder with everyday that passes," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"That's why I wanted you to accept that protection. I want you to be fine, I want us to be fine," Padmé sighed, moving away and kissing his lips softly, a mere touch.

"We'll be fine."

* * *

Anakin let the robe fall from his shoulders and to the floor, pooling at his feet, and slid inside the bathtub, sighing exaggeratedly when the he felt the hot water against his tired body. _Heaven, _he thought,_ this is heaven._

He was tired, tired of everything, the fight, the dreams, the politics but, after all, he had gotten himself into this. He wondered at which point it had become so complicated, when exactly had his perfect romance with Padmé become a road full of obstacles. The marriage, the pregnancy, the war, everything seemed to be speeding up and out of his control.

Anakin sighed, getting his face under the water and going out seconds later, leaning his head against the white porcelain of the bathtub, and closed his eyes, parting his lips. He was so tired… all he needed was a few minutes, a few seconds to rest…

_Padmé's face contracted between pain spasms. Someone screamed in the background, a healer perhaps? Anakin couldn't be sure, he wasthere unconsciously. He couldn't feel his own presence in the room, but Padmé, God! Padmé screamed and he wanted to run to her, to scream, to ask for help, do something! But he couldn't._

_He couldn't._

_He couldn't._

_He couldn't do a thing._

_He couldn't... he couldn't... I can't, because this isn't real! _

Anakin opened up his eyes, the water of the bathtub splashing around him when he started looking around frenetically, making sure that, indeed, he had been dreaming. He sighed. This had to stop, but how?

* * *

When Anakin turned around for the thousand time that night, he decided to stop moving. With his back to the mattress, he looked to his right, watching Padmé's features outlined by the artificial light that filtered through the windows. Lights of vehicles and lampposts changed the colours of her face, going from a dark ochre to a luminous white in matter of seconds, highlighting her small parted lips, taking short breaths, making her live.

Anakin closed his eyes, he opened them again. Yes, she was alive. But if he slept, she died. He didn't want to think about the possibilities of his dream becoming a reality, but he couldn't help but avoid the torment of dreaming by not sleeping. He was so tired… but he didn't want to see how she died, she was his wife, the mother of his children… He couldn't help but wonder at which point he had stopped loving her. He propped himself on one elbow, watching her closer from his side of the bed. He had been so sure and everything had been so perfect. Apparently, tough, a romance was not the same as a marriage, specially when Anakin had discovered that politics would always be more important than he in Padmé's life. Love had escaped between their fingers, making a pair of brothers who shared a bed out of them.

He fell against the pillow again. He had to sleep. Maybe he wouldn't dream tonight, or maybe he would have the other dream. _The other dream_. Yes, there was another dream which, even when it wasn't unpleasant, just couldn't be normal. But he was so tired…

_He was kneeling on a bed, the white sheets pooling around him and the mattress sinking under his weight. His eyes were closed, but all his senses were wide awake, feeling the naked body of the other man against his back. Anakin bit his lip, suppressing a moan when one of the man's hands started drawing inexistent circles on the skin of his thigh while the other one held his hip to control the rhythm of his thrusts. Yes, the man was inside him, moving in a slow rhythm, almost painful, while their waists moved in small circles._

_The other man didn't moan, but his hot, ragged breathing caressed Anakin's neck, slick with sweat. The other man's hand left Anakin's thigh, surrounding the base of his erection with long, delicate fingers, and Anakin threw his head back, swallowing hard and gasping, digging his nails in the sensitive flesh he could reach. The other man laughed softly, a deep, erotic sound, caressing Anakin's exposed neck with wet lips. The man's hand copied the rhythm of his thrust, and Anakin wanted to scream that he needed it harder, faster, deeper, but he didn't, answering the torturously slow movement with his hips. _

_Anakin leaned his head on the on the other man's shoulder, looking with his eyes for a face for his lover. He found a pair of indefinable eyes, their color dancing between blue and grey, a smile curved in plump lips, white soft skin, defined masculine features, a beard that hid the real age of the man and reddish hair falling everywhere around, a soft strand caressing his nose._

_The man accelerated the rhythm slightly, enough for Anakin's lips to part in an involuntary moan._

_"Beautiful," the man's voice bounced against Anakin's ears, low and hoarse._

_Anakin felt a smile curve his own features and, getting closer to the other man, he touched his lips with his own in a sift touch. Their mouths fitted perfectly, layer of lip atop layer of lip moving deliberately slow and, almost shyly, a tongue seeking entrance. Seconds later Anakin couldn't be sure which tongue was in which mouth, which pair of lips were his or whose breath he was inhaling, but he pressed more against his lover instinctively, feeling the vibration of a moan between them._

_The other man's hand left his hip, caressing his stomach and pressing them stronger,accelerating the rhythm once again, loosing a bit of control. Anakin separated from his lips and the man buried his face in the crook of his neck, caressing his skin with his lips, his nose, his hair. Anakin dig his nails stronger in the man's skin, taking one hand to the one that caressed his stomach and entwining their fingers._

_"Anakin," his name left the man's throat in a forced grunt, almost choked, and Anakin whished he had name to pronounce. "Anakin… Ani…"_

_¿Ani? Only Padmé called him that. _

"Ani?" Anakin opened up his eyes, looking at Padmé's worried eyes. Padmé's. Not those of a soft skinned stranger with long fingers that thrust inside him in a deliciously slow rhyme. "Ani, are you alright? You were moving a lot," Anakin opened up his mouth, but he didn't say a word. He blinked, focusing on the image of his wife. _His wife_. Not _him_, whoever he was. "Were you having a nightmare?"

"I…," his voice was hoarse, low… turned on. "Yes, I was having a nightmare."

* * *

Anakin sighed when the hot water started sliding down his back. He threw his shoulders back, hearing the hard crack of his tense muscles and leaned his arms on the cold wall, looking for something that felt real. He had ran away from the room and Padmé with the excuse of the inexistent nightmare, when all he really wanted to do was… well, finish what he hadn't been able to finish on his dream.

It wasn't the first time. It was always the same, the same hands around him, caressing him, the same bright eyes, the same smile, the same husky voice pronouncing his name and the same desire. He didn't know who he was, if he existed, but he filled his dreams with soft caresses.

His hand went to his cock without his brain accepting the idea, caressing slowly, trying to imitate the rhythm of the hand that had been around him on his dream. He groaned and but his lower lip, leaning on the wall, trembling to the cold of the porcelain on his skin.

The dream was far too vivid not to be real. It was more than a wet dream, it was… he couldn't define it, he didn't know, but he needed to find that man. So what if he did? What was he going to say? Yes, hi, I'm Anakin, nice to meet you. You see, the thing is lately I've been having this dreams in which you fuck me and, well, I'm married and my wife is pregnant with twins, but how do you feel about going to your apartment and letting me see if your as good as my dream? Not a very reasonable plan.

He covered his lips with one of his hands when he came, suppressing a moan. He closed his eyes, sighing and catching his breath, allowing the water to fall on him, hotter than the hands of the man, but not as soft, caressing his skin, slick with sweat and… God! He had to find him.

* * *


	3. Force user

**TempleMistress: **er, yes, I do believe Padmé _is_ a cold fish. Come on, if Anakin was _my_ husband I would keep him tied to a bed, but anyway, we'll make Obi appreciate him being sweaty. Yes, last chapter was like... full of naked Ani, I didn't notice until I checked the thing... Well, I hope you like this too. Thanks! and much love.

**Xtine: **tee hee, glad you liked the dream (I wrote it on a notebook while I was on the subway and then almost lost it... I could have died) Thank you very much! Yes, let's see what happen when they meet... (er, I'm supossed to know that, right?). Hope you like this!

**Lincoln Six Echo: **thanks! (also for your review on lj)

**ladylina: **thanks! Oh, yes, they have to find each other... and they will, I promise.

**Captain Starseeker: **oh, yes, it is complicated, the wife, the kids... (just run away with Obi, you silly! ... er, sorry, got a bit carried away). Glad you liked the dream, and the ranning too. Thank you and I hope you like this!

**BrynneEryn: **thanks! Yeah, not precisely a dream to have next to you wife. Thank you!

* * *

_Chapter III: Force user_

"… My hi-fi is waiting for a new tune  
My glass is waiting for some fresh ice cubes  
I'm just sitting here waiting for you  
To come on home and turn me on…" Turn me on, Norah Jones

Padmé wrinkled her features, her long dress falling around her while she sat in front of the dressing-table. Tarmé smiled behind her, starting to braid her hair in today's hairdo, a comfortable and serious one for the meeting with the Senate. She accommodated the dress' sleeves, trying to find a position that would make the fabric less heavy. Her handmaidens insisted on telling her that she looked beautiful, but she felt like a muffin among the overly adorned clothes. Like a pregnant muffin.

She took her hands to her belly in a gesture that was becoming a custom and sighed. She loved her children even when they weren't born, but the pregnancy certainly didn't do a thing for her beauty. She appreciated Anakin's efforts for making her feel pretty, but they looked insipid and fake to her. Ignoring her handmaiden's protests, she turned her face towards the door of their room, behind which her husband slept peacefully. Or that was what she expected; Anakin had always had problems sleeping.

She took her eyes back to the mirror, watching Tarmé's skilful hands comb her hair into a perfect bun. She wondered at which point the idea of a marriage with Anakin had felt right. Anakin was absolutely adorable, sweet and generous, he had made her laugh, he had even made her forget about politics for a few seconds and when he had looked at her with those big blue eyes and had proposed, she hadn't found any reason to say no. To a certain point, she knew revelry had been what had made her accept, trying to tell the world that she could marry a younger man who had spent half his life as a slave and the other half going from planet to planet. After all, everybody had expected her to marry Bail Organa.

It had been only weeks after the bonding when she had realized the stupidity of her decision. Anakin should have been a romance to remember, not a marriage and a pregnancy. Anakin was going to love his children more than anybody, but he wasn't going to be a father for them. Anakin was kind and naïve, incapable of surviving in the politic craziness that surrounded her life, incapable of comprehending the basic ideas, such as that a friendship with chancellor Palpatine was not recommendable.

Palpatine had showed interest in her mysterious husband when he had heard the news and had insisted on meeting him. Padmé wondered what the Chancellor saw in Anakin, what he wanted from him. She didn't want to be unfair with her husband, but Anakin couldn't possibly represent something for the Chancellor. Anakin knew nothing of politics, all he could talk about were loose wires and ships. God, how many hours had he spent talking about star fighters when the Jedi protection had come into the conversation?

She frowned suddenly: she had almost forgotten about the Jedi. She could understand that the Senate wanted to keep an eye on her, after all, the last attempt had been the third one but, what good could it do now? Dormé had died between her arms, loyalty shining in her eyes while her lips curved assuring her that she had fulfilled her mission. Dormé. She, who had looked at her with betrayal in her gaze when her lips had joined Anakin's in a hurried marriage. Padmé wasn't one for love, platonic feelings and passion were lost on her, but Dormé's eyes had made her flinch and now that she wasn't here… her death…

"Enough, Tarmé," her voice was sharper than she had meant to, and the girl took a step back out of pure instinct. "Its fine, thank you," Padmé forced a smile and Tarmé nodded.

"My lady," Padmé looked up, acknowledging the third female figure that appeared on the door. "Master Kenobi is here," Padmé nodded, repressing a sigh.

"Ask him to wait, I must go to the Senate and I'm assuming he'll come too."

* * *

Obi-Wan Kenobi hadn't changed much in the past ten years. There was the beard, a sign of maturity, probably a superficial symbol not to look like a kid among the Jedi Council, there were some lines under his eyes, some superficial wrinkles and, probably, his clothes hid scars caused by the years of battle. His smile, though, was the same, wide and kind, a strangely perfect gesture on a warrior. Although maybe, Obi-Wan was more a politician than a warrior.

"Master Kenobi," Padmé offered him a hand, which he took in a warm shake.

"I would appreciate you using my name, senator," she nodded, not giving him the same treat. Then again, he hadn't expected it. "I've been informed that you had been summoned for a meeting with the Senate."

"Indeed I have, I'm assuming you know the life of a politician can be very unpredictable," Obi-Wan just smiled while they started walking, not telling to the senator that the life of a Jedi wasn't precisely a planned one, either.

Obi-Wan followed the senator's and her handmaiden's steps with no other word, deciding it would be wiser. Padmé Amidala had become arrogant in that way politicians tended to be, projecting that feeling of fake superiority to the rest of the world. When Obi-Wan had met her she had been a young queen, full of good intentions, but now he could recognize in her the change a hard crash with reality could produce. Padmé was a politician, another member of the Senate willing to fight with questionable methods to get what she wanted. At least, he thought, she was in the good side, if there was such a thing.

* * *

Anakin sat on the floor, his legs spread and Artoo between them. He opened a small toolbox and took one out after looking for a few seconds. He took the tool towards Artoo's white outside, stopping when he heard a series of complaining whistles. He chuckled, putting one hand on Artoo's head.

"It's just a minor revision," he whispered. When he got no answer, he assumed he had permission to proceed.

The truth was he was doing a basic and unnecessary revision, but he needed to occupy his hands with something not to fall asleep. He had gotten some sleep last night but he had dreamt with confusing images he couldn't remember and hadn't actually rested. He sighed, letting his arms drop to his sides. His eyes wanted to close but, before they did so, Artoo made a few sharp noises that didn't let him.

"I'm tired, that's all," he assured, going back to his job.

His initial plan had consisted on getting to know the Jedi Padmé had been assigned, but when he had woken up he had found a message from his wife informing him of a sudden meeting with the Senate which, of course, required her presence and that of her new bodyguard.

Anakin had taken the presence of the Jedi has something exciting, even when Padmé had insisted on its uselessness and even when the Chancellor seemed not to trust the Order. The Chancellor's affirmation about the loyalties of the Jedi Council and their intentions had surprised him; Anakin had always trusted in that unknown force the Order seemed to be. Maybe the Chancellor had his reasons, after all, he was a brilliant politician and an intelligent man. Anakin, tough, had never truly understood politics. Manipulation and subtlety were not for him, he preferred being direct and sincere in his actions and words. He hated that necessity politicians seemed to have of hiding a meaning behind every word, of commiting injustices to maintain their pride and of acting like rats while looking like kings. Maybe that was why he had never truly understood Padmé.

He shook his head, trying not to think too much. He was too tired to think. He buried a hand in his hair, moving away the curls that were covering his eyes and, with one last touch he closed Artoo's framework, getting a soft thanking whistle.

"You're welcome."

Anakin put both hands around the astromech, letting his face fall on the cold metal of its head. His eyelids shut spontaneously and Anakin felt incapable of opening them again. He was so tired… maybe, if he focused enough, he would dream with big hands caressing him _oh so_ slowly and… He opened up his eyes, laying on the floor, burying both hands between hiss curls. Dreaming unconsciously with a man making love to him was bad, but wanting to dream about him was plain twisted.

It was curious that he wasn't surprised by the fact that his imaginary lover was a man. He had had chances of getting into men's beds and, if he was sincere with himself, he wouldn't have minded changing the soft curves of a woman for the hard angles of a man but, in this case, the desire came from the fact that his companion was male. The big hands, the firm chest, the scent, the beard, _oh yes_ the sensation of the beard against his skin, the hard features and having the man inside him. He had never thought about bottoming but with _him_ it didn't seem to matter. _God_, of course it didn't matter, he just wanted him deeper, closer.

He groaned when he felt his own hand descending down his chest in a spontaneous way. He moved it away, extending his arms on the floor and breathing slowly. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. He opened up his eyes, trying to erase the images from his head and sighed again. He heard a new series of whistles coming from Artoo and he forced a smile, sitting.

"I'm fine Artoo, I'm perfect."

* * *

Obi-Wan was genuinely bored, what could be expected from a meeting of the Senate? He had stopped paying attention to the politicians a few hours ago when he had decided that the meeting was being useless. Although it probably wasn't; Palpatine did everything for a reason, but Obi-Wan couldn't quite find it. He didn't trust the Chancellor, his educated manners and his grimaces which never reached smiles. Palpatine was perverse and had no good feelings for the Jedi Order. He had tried discussing it in the Council, with tact and subtlety, but the other masters just shook their heads and Yoda didn't want to talk about it, even when he probably had something to say about it. He always had something to say.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Padmé and Bail Organa, both of them focused on the babbling of some other senator. He was tired, even when there hadn't been any dreams last night to keep him up. He had the feeling that Luminara had something to do with that. He smiled softly, shaking his head. He liked having Luminara taking care of him, but maybe not that much. Any case, there had been no mysterious young man named Anakin producing him an uncomfortable feeling of desire in his dreams.

He had tried giving it a different name: curiosity, worry, anything, but it _was_ desire. Burning, dangerous desire. The feeling was completely unknown to him, who had never felt that necessity of touching, feeling. To a certain point, the concept of sex had always felt somewhat unpleasant for him and still, a new curiosity for it was starting to make a space inside him. It was incomprehensible, he was too old to be dealing with this, but he was. If he only knew who _he_ was… But he didn't.

* * *

This one had probably been one of the longest days on Obi-Wan's life. When the meeting had been declared closed, he had sighed, thankful. Now he was following the senator who walked next to senator Organa, discussing the god dammed meeting. He wondered if Bail had something to do with Padmé's pregnancy, but he rejected the idea seconds later. If Bail was the father there would have been a bonding and he would have known, but her pregnancy was certainly a mystery. Who had had the guts to marry such a woman?

"Obi-Wan," he looked at Bail, shaking then the hand he offered him.

The senator gave his goodbyes to Padmé, separating then from them. Obi-Wan took a couple of fast steps to start walking next to the senator.

"Senator," she looked at him, smiling. "I would like to talk with the members of your security team, I do hope I can count on them."

"Of course. If you excuse me, I would like to rest, but one of my helpers will be at your disposition for anything you need," Obi-Wan nodded. "I hope you remember Jar Jar Binks," Obi-Wan nodded, biting his tongue to repress a comment. His master had had a tendency of collecting all kinds of creatures on his way, but Obi-Wan had never truly liked species like the Gungans, especially if they were talking about Jar Jar. It was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

When Obi-Wan entered the senator's personal apartments after the needed revisions, his eyes showed him that he was alone and still, his senses told him otherwise. The door closed behind him while his hands clutched a near table, trying to hold the weight of his body. He slid to a wall, leaning there his back and he closed his eyes, putting shields around his mind and trying to breathe slowly. The Force. It was everywhere, dancing in an uncontrolled way, reaching him in senseless waves, hitting his barriers. Who was it? A force user, someone with no training. He was getting dizzy. He pressed his eyelids tightly, started breathing trough his mouth and took his hands to his neck, focusing on himself and fighting to lift a stronger shield between him and whoever else was in the room.

He opened up his eyes sometime later, blinking a couple of times to adjust the light. He felt the Force around him, free and uncontrolled, but his own senses were focused, eliminating his weakness. He moved away from the wall, surveying the room with his eyes. He walked to the sofa and there, he saw him. _Him_. Anakin, if that was his name. He approached the front of the sofa with unsure steps, watching the laying figure with a mix of curiosity and awe. He was sleeping, his eyes closed, his breathing calmed and his lips parted, a sheet that didn't cover his naked chest sliding to the floor.

Obi-Wan felt his own breathing go faster, his pulse quicken. He took one hand to the boy's figure, stopping before he caressed the face which wasn't a product of his imagination, but real and as perfect as it had been in his dreams. Anakin – that he would call him until he found out his name – trembled, hugging himself. Before he could stop his own movements, Obi-Wan crouched, took the cover and put it over the man's shoulders, gasping when the back of his hand touched the soft skin of an arm. When he took his hands back to his own body, he saw a pair of bright blue eyes looking directly at him.

* * *

Anakin opened his eyes and, the first thing he did was hold his breathing and bite his tongue. There he was, a real figure in front of his awaken eyes – were they really? –. But they had to be, because he could hear his quick breathing, he could see his _dressed_ figure… with Jedi clothing? Yes.

He sat on the sofa, the cover pooling around his waist and then falling to the floor when he stood up. He lowered his eyes to those of the man, finding it surprising that he was smaller than him. He swallowed strongly, trying to recover the rhythm of his breathing, which had quickened involuntarily when his eyes had distinguished the figure of the man… the _real_ figure. He took his hand to the man's face, stopping millimeters away from his skin, suddenly afraid that he was going to disappear if he touched him. But when he did, he felt soft and firm skin under the only finger he had dared to put on his face. The man's eyes closed in an automatic gesture and Anakin felt his lungs starting to fail him when he touched him with a second finger, sliding down the soft skin of his cheek, reaching a pair of lips that parted when feeling the contact. He dropped his hand again and saw the other man's eyelids open and show him a pair of blue or grey eyes, maybe even green.

"I…," Anakin's voice was hoarse, somewhat lost. "I… I'm…"

"Anakin."

"Yes."

Obi-Wan half closed his eyes, taking his hand to one of Anakin's, caressing his fingertips with his own, feeling an odd sensation of heat expanding through his body. He trembled.

"I–"

"Oh, Obi-Wan, you're here," Padmé's voice entered the room, breaking the surreal feeling that had taken over them and forcing them to separate their hands and take a step back, a feeling of intimacy broken by the presence of a third person. "I see you've met my husband."

* * *

End chapter III.


	4. Palpatine

**Xtine: **I see your point, I actually think it's better if Padmé isn't in love too, becuase it just says that they made a mistake, doesn't it? Glad you liked their encounter, it was very fun to write, with all the tension and the longing... and yes, she had to appear... Ohh, I left you hanging? Good. Here we again. Thanks!

**TempleMistress: **I'm a Sith? Yeah (insert evil laugh) Teehee, Padmé had to appear, didn't she? Just go and break their moment sigh She's a frustrating character... And, er... I never meant for Artoo's comment to be _that, _I'll have to keep that in mind for the future (biggest adult toy ever? It killed me...) Thank you!

**Lea Devon: **Thank you! here we go!

**Captain Starseeker: **yep, poor Obi. finding who Anakin was like that (I'm evil...). Ugh, we'll see about that ending, what with the wife and all, it'll be complicated... Thank you! Glad you liked the tension and their meeting... it's so great to have them finally togheter! (and oh, yes, happy new year)

**Lincoln Six Echo: **thanks! Yes, we do need more on Anakin's past.. hmmm... thank you!

**Science Fantasy: **wow, thanks! Glad to see a new reviewer around here. Thanks!

I noticed most of you boo hissed at Padmé when she appeared... hmm... I'm just warning you Padmé lovers (are there any?), she's going to be pretty much a bitch in this story... thought you might know...

* * *

_Chapter IV: Palpatine_

"… Oh, you've got green eyes

Oh, you've got blue eyes

Oh, you've got grey eyes

And I've never seen anyone quite like you before…" _Temptation, _New Order

_I see you've met my husband. _The words were so sudden that Obi-Wan found them insipid, coming from a reality he didn't belong to. Husband. _My_ husband. Padmé's. Senator Amidala. The idea sounded logical, true, but his senses denied the situation he was involved in. He was dizzy and confused and the Force kept hitting his barriers insistently. _Anakin, my husband, here, now. _He needed to focus, to breathe, to reinforce his barriers, but Padmé's words bounced against him over an over again, mocking him, too real to be fake. _My _husband.

"Are you alright?" Obi-Wan looked up, finding a pair of blue eyes looking worried. He blinked and, suddenly, he was conscious of his body being held by Anakin's hands, one on his waist and one on his arm, strong and warm.

He opened his mouth, confused. He closed his eyes tightly, taking the image of Anakin in front of him away from his mind and trying to focus. He put his shields back on, rejecting the confused and uncontrolled wave that surrounded him, ignoring the incessant noise that filled his ears.

He had fallen. No, not quite fallen but lost his balance, crashing irremediably with the body in front of his, Anakin's body, known and unknown at the same time, perfect, mysterious, irresistible. He opened his eyes to receive the same worried look, a dark sheen of recognition behind it.

Obi-Wan moved away from Anakin, trying to curve his lips into a smile and getting only a shy gesture. He lowered his eyes to his hands and looked up again, only to see Anakin's gaze away from him and fixed in his own naked chest, which ascended and descended quickly, the younger one's breathing suddenly accelerated.

"Is everything alright, Obi-Wan?" Obi-Wan looked at Padmé, blinking incredulously because _he had forgotten about her_. He nodded, ignoring the senator's frown. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, thank you," Obi-Wan coughed, trying to erase the husky tone from his voice. He had to control himself and focus. He had to talk with the senator about official matters and had to forget about him.

"Good. Anakin, this is master Obi-Wan Kenobi," Anakin's eyes looked at him again and Obi-Wan half smiled, clutching a table not to lose his balance again. He coughed slightly.

"Senator," started Obi-Wan, looking at her and frowning when he saw her looking at Anakin with disapproval in her eyes. "I would like to know how much time you are planning on staying in Coruscant."

"Why do you ask?" the senator's eyes found his in a hard look.

"The Council thought that it would be prudent for you to take care of any business you have in Coruscant as fast as you can and then return to Naboo for some time. After all–"

"The Council? Why should I follow the Jedi's orders? I'll take as much time as I need in Coruscant Obi-Wan," Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest, not really impressed by the sharp tone in the woman's voice, who had gone from infuriated wife to aggressive politician in a second.

"I understand that you don't want to be under anyone's command, and I want you to understand that we are not giving orders but recommendations. You'll be safer in Naboo, senator."

"I will not submit to anyone's recommendations, I don't thi–"

"Padmé," all eyes went to Anakin, whose tone was between an insecure one and a… furious one? Yes. Obi-Wan took one hand to his chin, surprised that it was so easy for him to read Anakin's feelings even when the Force was so confuse around him.

"Yes, Anakin?" her tone was hard, and Obi-Wan had to bit his tongue not to make an inappropriate comment.

"I think we should go to Naboo, you can't–"

"Anakin, I do believe this has nothing to do with you, darling."

"Yes, after all I'm only your husband, right? Excuse me then, I will leave you alone so you can make your own decisions," Padmé flinched when the door Anakin had used to leave the room made a deafening sound when it closed. Obi-Wan frowned.

"Excuse him, my husband is far too emotional," _yes, and you're a bitch. _Obi-Wan hit himself mentally just for thinking that.

"He was giving you a good advice; he worries about you, doesn't he? I don't think your husband's interests are those of the Republic when he talks about your security. Perhaps you should listen to him."

Their looks faced each other and, for a few seconds, Obi-Wan felt a strange sensation surrounding them, almost as if Padmé was jealous of the attention her husband was giving him. Had she felt it too? That… connection, that feeling of intimacy that had taken his breath away… was it something visible, something obvious? It was Padmé who looked away first, breaking the silence battle.

"I will consider it."

* * *

"And where exactly are you going?" Padmé's voice was sharp, almost accusing, but Anakin didn't seem to notice, focused as he was in Obi-Wan's figure walking behind them.

"To see the Chancellor."

"Of course, why–"

"Padmé, we already discussed that," Padmé shut her mouth quickly, surprised by the firm tone in her husband's voice. Without another word, they kept walking.

Padmé was going to see some senators she had promised to meet to talk about some sort of petition, Anakin couldn't be sure. He, tough, had used the Chancellor as an excuse to obtain some time alone with his mysterious dream come true. Obi-Wan. At least now he had a name to pronounce. He wanted to tell him a million things and at the same he just wanted to stay in the same room with him and look at him, he also wanted to trap him against a wall and tear his clothes off but, most of all, he wanted to kiss him. He wanted to put his lips above his and see if they fitted perfectly and if they tasted like chocolate, he wanted to feel his tongue against his and he wanted to take his breath away. Nevertheless, he wasn't going to.

Even if he was capable of forgetting the fact that he was married, he couldn't ignore that Obi-Wan was a Jedi and therefore, a virgin, untouchable. The Obi-Wan of his dreams had seemed to know what he was doing, but the real one wouldn't sleep with him… would he?

"Here we are," Padmé stopped in front of a closed door, pointing silently that she didn't want any of them inside.

"I'll be here senator. Just call me if you need me."

"Of course," Padmé nodded and rose a little on her tiptoes to kiss Anakin's cheek, keeping her eyes on Obi-Wan while she did so. With one last smile, she entered the room.

Anakin leaned his shoulder on the wall and Obi-Wan found himself copying the gesture unconsciously while his eyes went to Anakin's. Once again, he started having troubles breathing and, before he could realize it, Anakin's hand was taking one of his, pressing softly, caressing his palm with soft fingertips.

"Are you alright? It's the second time that happens," Obi-Wan pressed Anakin's hand, smiling.

"It's…," Obi-Wan shook his head, repressing a sigh. "It's you."

"Me?" Anakin took one step towards Obi-Wan, getting as close as he could without touching him and allowed his fingers to entwine with Obi-Wan's.

"The Force, you're very strong in the Force and I… we–"

"The Force? Me?"

"Yes… I've seen many untrained Force users, but no one as strong as you and… if I don't keep my shields in place you… well, you make me dizzy."

Anakin smiled softly, getting his face closer to Obi-Wan's unconsciously. A few days ago he would have felt infuriated knowing that no one had tried to find him and train him, but now he was floating in a cloud of unreality in which his feelings got confused and folded until he lost any knowledge he had of himself.

Anakin closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on Obi-Wan's, feeling his eyelids caress his face when Obi-Wan shut his eyes too. Anakin took the hand that wasn't holding Obi-Wan's to his neck and entwined his fingers between the short hairs of Obi-Wan's scalp, while Obi-Wan parted his lips, caressing Anakin's skin with a suddenly quick breathing.

"Obi-Wan?" the question was an erotic whisper coming from Anakin's lips.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever kissed somebody?"

"I–"

"Master Kenobi," Obi-Wan's eyes opened at the same time Anakin's did and, before they even thought about it, they were two steps away, their hands and forehead separated.

"Chancellor," Obi-Wan's voice left his throat shaking and softly surprised. He had to cough and blink to recover the sense of reality and, when he did, he just found an incredulous grimace between Palpatine's lips.

"I see you've met young Skywalker," Anakin smiled, blushing. "Senator Amidala has good taste, don't you think?" Obi-Wan just nodded, while the Chancellor raised both eyebrows. "Anakin."

"Yes, Chancellor?" Anakin was surprised by how hoarse his voice was, but he tried to act normally.

"Perhaps you'd like a cup of tea?"

"Of course, Chancellor."

"I would love to count with your presence master Kenobi, but I assume you're dealing with… official business."

"I am, Chancellor. Thank you anyway."

"Maybe some other day…?"

"Whenever you want."

* * *

When senator Amidala disappeared behind the door of her room followed by one of her handmaidens, Obi-Wan sat on a couch lazily, sighing. If there was some sort of award to the most confuse day in history, Obi-Wan would definitely be a winner. He had gone from being the babysitter of the unkindest senator of all Coruscant to meeting the person that had been filling his dreams. Anakin, Padmé Amidala's husband and a Force user. At least that explained somewhat why he had appeared so suddenly inside his mind, although it didn't explain that feeling that seemed to pull them together.

He had been very close to kissing him. Force damn him if Anakin didn't have the most beautiful pouty lips he had ever seen, but that didn't justify that numbness that was choking him. When his eyes met Anakin's he seemed to forget everything around him, his _wife_, the fact that they were in the middle of a hallway or that putting his lips above Anakin's would be throwing away the convictions and beliefs of a life.

Obi-Wan was a Jedi and letting his thoughts get confused with desire whenever Anakin was around was breaking his Code in every possible way. Force, he needed to meditate.

* * *

The door closed behind Anakin's figure when he left the room and Palpatine tuned on his heels and walked to the window, looking at the darkened city of Coruscant. Even when the night had fallen the city didn't actually loose its light, since the artificial one substituted the natural, creating a yellow spectrum over its inhabitants. The noise didn't left the place either, which was always filled with vehicles and passerby. The Chancellor couldn't care less about the nigh life of the city, but watching it from a high building certainly created a romantic atmosphere.

Palpatine hadn't expected to ever attend to a situation as the one he had seeing, but he couldn't say that it had been completely unpleasant. Kenobi and Skywalker, Kenobi and Skywalker. He should have predicted it. Obi-Wan Kenobi was not the best warrior the Order had, and still, Yoda had seen in him the qualities that had taken him to become a member of the Council. Kenobi had strange capacity of looking beyond their stupid Code. He followed it as fervently as any other, but he knew he shouldn't trust the Chancellor, so he had probably guessed what laid beneath Skywalker.

Palpatine had been surprised when the Council had decided to send Kenobi to look after the senator, but he hadn't liked the idea. Knowing that the Order could find out about his little secret through Obi-Wan wasn't pleasant but maybe, he would get something out of this because, if he wasn't mistaken, what he had seen today had been the previous of a kiss. Was the great master Kenobi succumbing to the beauty of the young senator's husband? Or was it the Force bringing them together? Any case, he would have to see if his conclusion were right and exactly how far Kenobi would go for Skywalker.

He would have to think of something. Pity Dooku had had to die, Palpatine had certainly lost a mature and intelligent apprentice. Dooku's only problem had been that traitorous jealousy against Anakin which had made him attack him. _Him_. Palpatine had been force to cut the former Jedi's stubborn head beforehand, so he would have to use less experienced helpers. If his plans come out right, _and they would_, he would not only have Skywalker between his hands, but Kenobi's head at his feet.

* * *

The night had fallen over Coruscant when Anakin came back, so he tried not to be noisy. The last thing he needed was Padmé lecturing him because he had awakened her or _God forbid it_, one of her handmaidens.

His eyes went directly to the figure that, sitting on the floor, looked at the window. Obi-Wan. Anakin walked towards him silently, looking at his closed eyes and relaxed features. He seemed to be meditating. Anakin kneeled by his side, detailing his features with his eyes. He was just as his dream, only real. The reddish hair, the beard, the lips, the nose, the neck… He let his look wander to the back of his neck, looking for parts his dream hadn't showed him, discovering new skin. A white scar started in Obi-Wan's neck and got lost under his tunics, tempting Anakin to follow it with his hands.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan's voice took him out of his hypnotic state, making him take his look to the eyes that, tonight, seemed definitely blue. Perhaps tomorrow they'd be grey. Or green.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," Anakin moved his head away, smiling awkwardly.

"It's ok, I was just meditating… did you just get here?" Anakin nodded, leaving his kneeled position to sit. He found that if he kept his desire controlled, being in the same room Obi-Wan was, was enough to make him feel comfortable.

"I… I was looking at your scar, seems deep."

"Which one?" Anakin smiled and, not giving it a second thought, he put two fingers on Obi-Wan's neck. Obi-Wan forced his eyes to stay open, but his lips ignored his brain's orders and parted with an imperceptible sigh. "I think… I don't remember how I got it. You lose the count with time," Anakin nodded, taking his hand away before he did something inappropriate, but before it reached his lip Obi-Wan trapped his wrist. Anakin looked at him, surprised. "You've got scars too."

"I know," Obi-Wan's hand pulled up Anakin's sleeve, showing some vertical scars on his wrist. Unconsciously, his thumb started caressing the marked skin.

"Why did you try to… why–"

"Kill myself? No, I didn't," Anakin shook his head, relaxing his shoulders and letting the warmth of Obi-Wan's hand against his skin fill him. "I was in Portmin at the time, trying to get out actually, but I was attacked by slave drivers and well… I was a slave once and I–"

"You were a slave?" Obi-Wan's voice was surprised. He hadn't expected someone so young and married to a senator to have such a past.

"My mother was a slave in Tatooine. She was bought and his owner freed her and married her, so I just had to get enough money to buy my freedom. He is a good man, but I don't think he liked me, so I decided to leave and look for… I don't know, something more," Obi-Wan just nodded, motioning for Anakin to continue. "I traveled to different planets, and I didn't want to be a slave again. When I was caught in Portmin I thought that if they believed I was dead they would get rid of me, so I made a few cuts in my wrists."

"You could have died," Obi-Wan repressed from ending the sentence with a: _and I wouldn't have met you._

"Actually, death is only caused when you cut them horizontally. When you it vertically there's blood loss, but not enough to die… It wasn't pleasant, any case."

Obi-Wan nodded, starting to understand the soft sad tone that was behind Anakin's eyes, around his Force signature. How exactly had ended up a man like him married to Padmé? Maybe she had just tried to be rebellious, and maybe he had just been looking for something better. Or maybe they did love each other and…

"Can I ask you something?" Obi-Wan nodded to Anakin's question while he looked into his eyes, making him create a new barrier not to loose control. "I… I have this dreams and… you this afternoon that the Force– could they be real?"

"Maybe, or maybe not. The Force is very mysterious, we learn to create barriers against dreams, but… what kind of dreams?"

"Well… sometimes people die, other times… I dreamed about you," Obi-Wan raised both eyebrows, surprised. Anakin just thanked that the room was dark enough to hide his blushing cheeks. "I don't really remember," he hurried. He wasn't going to tell Obi-Wan _exactly_ what they had been doing. "But you were there."

"I think… I think you should ignore it," Anakin nodded, not knowing if he should feel relieved or frustrated.

Anakin shook his head, trying to forget his unreal world for a while, after all, Obi-Wan was now a part of the real one. He leaned slightly forward and put his lips on the Jedi's cheek, which colored automatically. He stayed there for a few seconds, caressing Obi-Wan's face with his eyelashes when he closed his eyes and then, he moved away.

"I'm happy to finally know your name, Obi-Wan Kenobi."


	5. Lust

Hello, people! God, this fanfic is pretty much writing itself, it's amazing! Er... I will be answering your lovely reviews personally as soon as I can, seeing that my computer as gone completely wacko and only answers to certain petitions (well, at least the thing is letting me post). Thanks, anyway, you'll be hering from me. Much love

Monchy

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_Chapter V: Lust_

"… You give me

You give me fever…" _Fever, _Madonna

Politicians could possibly be the most boring people ever known to mankind; Palpatine knew because he was one of them. They were so… monothematic. He wondered briefly exactly when hadthe beautiful fantasy of the Machiavellian and cruel politicians died, those elegant novel characters capable of manipulating any mind with a few words and capable of crushing any inferior being under their feet. Palpatine removed an inexistent piece of dust from his dark grey tunic, tempted of thinking that he felt lonely. He smiled to himself; he had always liked melodrama a bit too much.

He nodded softly when those who accompanied him stayed silent, assuming that it was time for him to offer some words. He could simply go into an insipid diatribe that would fit in any conversation, but he preferred twisting his mouth and blinking, making clear that his mood of the day didn't include bringing some light to the poor minds he walked with. His three companions seemed to consider that the gesture was enough and they returned to their initial discussion about some pact or reunion. Palpatine was so bored; anybody would have swore that the life of a Sith Lord was somewhat exciting, but the truth was since he had been forced to finish with Dooku's life things had been pretty monotone. The Skywalker theme was going certainly slow, but he couldn't risk any rushed action in exchange of a few minutes of adrenaline. Although, if he was lucky enough, maybe…

Ah, yes, there he was. After all, Anakin Skywalker was a pretty predictable creature so, as every morning, he ran through the same path that crossed the same gardens. The hard steps of the boy were enough to drag the attention of his companions for a few seconds, until they decided in a silent agreement that the training figure didn't deserve their time. Palpatine followed them, giving one last look at the young man and shaking his head. Those insignificant senators gave their back to anyone who didn't have their political status, ignoring that the world's greatest power was out of their reach. With only a few hours of training, Anakin Skywalker would take their lives among screams, and they would only show him respect when he did so. But everything in its own time.

First things first, and that included seeing how right he was about Kenobi. The plan was already designed in his mind, but he wanted to wait a little longer, allow little Kenobi to be vulnerable enough to doubt his adored Code. He trusted that Skywalker's lips were enough to do just that. After that, he would only have to add a bit of melodrama to the situation and Kenobi would crawl to Anakin and then, he could make second move. Force! He would have to work on an evil laugh for that moment.

* * *

Obi-Wan was bored. Bored, bored, bored. Bored! Er… yes, bored. When Adi had joked about his new job as senator Amidala's babysitter Obi-Wan had smiled and told his friend not to be mean. Nevertheless, nothing had been as close to the truth as her cruel jokes about his mission. _Besides, _the senator was torturing him: _on purpose._

Padmé had invited some senators to her apartments for what she had called a _tea party_. He would bet any part of his body that she was just as bored as he was. The senator had developed some sort of hate towards him and she showed it in icy glares and small demonstrations such as these, situations in which he had to stand and stay silent, hearing the superficial conversations and tolerating the not so subtle whistles from some of the senators, who seemed to find him _adooooorable. _Obi-Wan flinched.

He wasn't very sure if the senator's feelings were coming from her not wanting his protection or from Anakin. Padmé seemed pretty worried about marking her territory, keeping Anakin close to her, touching his arms or kissing him forcefully. Force, Anakin himself seemed surprised. Obi-Wan had decided to stay silent and to ignore the small arrogant shows, acting as the Jedi master he was. His own feelings towards Anakin… that was something he didn't want to think about.

The door opened suddenly and Obi-Wan looked up, hoping that it would be someone screaming that the building was on fire or that interplanetary war had just exploded, but his eyes only found Anakin's sweaty chest. Obi-Wan swallowed hard, forcing himself to move his eyes up, to ignore the wet lips and to reach Anakin's blue eyes looking at him with something close to pity. Anakin probably knew how tortuous women reunions could be.

Anakin blushed furiously when he felt every pair of eyes on him, covering his naked chest quickly with the robe that covered his shoulders. He offered a smile and walked towards Padmé, kissing her cheek when she offered him her face. With a few courteous words, Anakin excused himself to go take a shower, stopping next to Obi-Wan before leaving the room.

"You look bored," he whispered caressing Obi-Wan's palm with his fingertips, entwined them when Obi-Wan seek the contact. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "You want me to activate the fire alarm?"

"As tempting as it sounds… no, thank you," Obi-Wan half smiled, too tempted of accepting the offer. Anakin simply smiled before leaving the room, letting go of Obi-Wan's hand only when he could no longer reach it.

Obi-Wan took his eyes back to the women, getting a cold stare from Padmé. Obi-Wan smiled at her and nodded, ignoring the senator's gesture, and she returned her attention to her guests. Obi-Wan leaned on the wall, closing his eyes unconsciously when the soft murmur of the shower reached his ears. He could almost see Anakin under the hot water, drops sliding down his naked chest, caressing his tired legs, erasing any trace of sweat, wetting his curls and… Obi-Wan shook his head, ignoring the images his own mind had created. He opened up his eyes, inhaled slowly and then, he felt it.

His shields were on their place, standing firmly, but that didn't stop the sudden pleasure wave that reached him coming from Anakin. He forced his eyes to stay open, but the sensation was hitting his barriers, mocking his weakness, because he wanted to lower his resistance and _really_ feel it, in all its intensity. He covered himself instinctively with his tunic, feeling his own body react involuntarily. He pressed his teeth together, but his eyes gave up and closed, his lips parted and allowed a shy tongue to erase their sudden dryness. He put his hands inside his pockets and clutched the fabric between his fists, fighting… Force, fighting against _pleasure. _Physical pleasure, desire, lust… and he wanted to let go, he needed… but he couldn't and… He had to get out of there.

His body started walking not needing more encouragement, which got him some enigmatic looks from the gathered women. He forced a smile and a nod, keeping his clothes firmly shut and with a few words – he couldn't be sure which ones – he left the room, reaching the balcony of the apartment. He clutched the railing strongly, noticing the sweat covering his forehead, his ragged breathing and his erection becoming more painful by the second. He could just… but no, he wanted to lower his shields, he wanted… So he did.

His shields descended with a brutal strength and Obi-Wan kneeled on the floor, a moan leaving his lips. A pleasure wave filled his senses, making him see every part of what he wanted. He kept his hands on the railing and closed his eyes tightly, but he could see a clear image of Anakin under the water, one hand against the cold wall and the other one caressing himself languidly, almost with no interest. The almost cold water fell and bounced against Anakin's tanned back, mixing with his sweat, his eyes were half closed and his parted lips left soft sounds that didn't dare to become moans. Obi-Wan could feel Anakin's hand moving slowly, _oh_ so torturously slow, getting him closer, but never reaching the breaking point, pressing, ascending, descending, teasing. Obi-Wan bit his lip not to loose control and pronounce Anakin's name and he didn't stop even when he felt blood inside his mouth. He licked his lips, trying to ignore the suggested smell that caressed his interior, the smell of Anakin's body, intense, masculine. Force, he was so close! But Anakin's hand didn't move faster and Obi-Wan just couldn't touch himself, allowing the shared suggestion to take him to the end. Anakin threw his head back, suddenly accelerating the movement and, with a loud pant, he came. So did Obi-Wan.

* * *

Obi-Wan sat on the floor as graciously as he could. Padmé was a few meters away from him, sitting next to a table and focused on a pile of papers and Anakin was also on the floor fixing… er, _something_. Anakin seemed to be attracted to any kind of mechanical thing, and Obi-Wan seemed to be attracted to Anakin. He sighed.

After the… er, um… "accident" that morning Obi-Wan had been very unfocused. He had found himself covered in his own sweat, his hands turning red from his grip on the railing, his eyes closed, his breathing accelerated, his pants sticky and a tear sliding down his cheek. He knew he had probably made a pretty pathetic image, but it had taken him some time to recover from the external stimulus his body had received. He hadn't felt capable of putting his shields back on, he had allowed Anakin's satisfaction to fill him instead.

As soon as he had recovered the capability of movement, he had run to the bathroom Anakin had left and had gotten under the shower, allowing water to erase the traces of his weakness. A part of his mind had reminded him that he should be taking care of the senator, although it was unlikely that someone attempted against her security at that moment. Any case, he was pretty sure those women could bore to death anybody.

The shower, tough, hadn't been such a good idea. Anakin's scent still lingered in the room, so did a trace of his Force signature, mixing with Obi-Wan's sweat, with his necessity. By inertia, his hands had caressed his own body as the image of Anakin under the water filled his senses. He had remembered the water falling down his back, his parted lips and the soft sounds he had made, while allowing his hand to touch his body, _wanting_ it to be _Anakin's._

Obi-Wan didn't understand it, but he wasn't very sure he actually wanted to. After all, for him mast- personal gratification had always been something he had to do to keep his body healthy, almost as brushing his teeth. So maybe not quite like brushing his teeth, but definitely not a desperate search for contact. He had looked for release, not pleasure. Until this morning, when it had been Anakin's hands touching himself what had made him let go, even when Anakin himself hadn't been aware of his shared fantasy. Not only had he allowed himself to shatter, but he had intruded into Anakin's privacy.

Meditation, he needed a lot of meditation. Or maybe just some sleep.

* * *

Padmé wasn't jealous. She was too mature to worry about the fidelity of her husband, specially when his supposed lover was a Jedi. Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin had known each other for what? Three days? So she had no reason to believe that there was _something else_ between them. And still, there was. Not physical, at least not yet, but when they were together in the same room there was this certain aura around them, something she didn't understand and something that made her feel unnecessary, as if she was the one that didn't belong in the scene.

Her little schemes were completely unconscious, she didn't want to offend Obi-Wan. Padmé hadn't wanted the protection of a Jedi, but she appreciated Obi-Wan. But there was something… that something… the way in which Anakin and he looked at each other, as if the simple contact of their eyes was enough to forget about the rest of the world, as if they understood each other. Padmé could be proud of a lot of achieved goals, but it was clear that understanding what went through her husband's mind was not one of them and in a few days, Obi-Wan seemed to have red everyone of his mysteries.

Padmé sighed, taking her attention back to her reflection on the mirror of her dressing table. He took the hairbrush to her dark curls, stopping before combing them. Her hands went to her face then, drawing her features as Anakin's hands had done once. She didn't want to hate Obi-Wan, but he had no right… he had no right…

* * *

_Obi-Wan closed his eyes, allowing the water falling from the shower to caress his skin, relaxing the tension of his muscles. Mace always said that he enjoyed showers a bit too much, but Obi-Wan always told him that it was one of the only pleasures he could allow himself, the best way of relaxing. Nevertheless, when he opened his eyes, any trace of calm he could have had disappeared, leaving in exchange Anakin's naked figure._

_Obi-Wan inhaled sharply, incapable of wondering when exactly had he appeared. He stayed static, but Anakin walked towards him with slow steps, descending then his face to his ear, caressing his cheeks with a pair of wet lips on his way down._

_"Obi-Wan," the voice left Anakin's throat almost as if it wasn't his own. Obi-Wan felt it far away, almost fake, covered by a cape of numbness he couldn't cross._

_Seconds later, his body was joined to Anakin's, the younger one's arm holding his waist. Obi-Wan wanted to say no, but he could only moan when Anakin's fingers entered his mouth. Not knowing what else to do he licked them, secretly enjoying the salty taste mixed with the now cold water that feel on them. Anakin took his fingers out of his mouth and Obi-Wan watched him smirk in an almost unnatural way._

_Obi-Wan couldn't quite surprise when one of Anakin's fingers entered him, making him moan out of pleasure, or maybe out of pain. Anakin pushed him until his back met the wall, Obi-Wan flinched to the contact of the cold porcelain, but the Anakin rocked his hips, rubbing their erections together and forcing Obi-Wan to hold his shoulders._

_"Anakin…," Obi-Wan felt a second finger enter him and he looked up. Something was wrong._

_Anakin's eyes had a strange shine behind them, something he had never seen, a certain air of… perversity. His smile was too twisted in a way that made it look like it belonged to another pair of lips and not to the ones Anakin actually possessed. A third finger and Obi-Wan had to bite his lip not to scream… out of pain. There was something wrong._

_"Anakin…," Anakin smiled wider, but Obi-Wan felt incapable of answering him, suddenly uncomfortable with the closeness of their bodies, of Anakin's skin against his. "Anakin… I can't."_

_"Anakin's gesture didn't change, his hands didn't move, neither did his body. Obi-Wan frowned, too conscious that he didn't want to bet there, not that way and with Anakin's eyes looking at him like that. Anakin should look at him differently, touch him differently, not like this, not… there was something different. He moved a little, but Anakin's body was too heavy against his, his fingers inside him were becoming too painful, too… he didn't want to… not like this, not with this Anakin… he didn't want to… he didn't want to…_

"Obi-Wan!" Obi-Wan opened up his eyes suddenly, feeling confused, uncomfortable in his surroundings.

He focused his eyes, finding Anakin's eyes on his. He moved back unconsciously, almost as a wounded animal would, getting away from Anakin's hand on his arm. Anakin moved away, allowing him to retreat further on the sofa in which he was half laying, looking hurt.

"You were dreaming," Obi-Wan swallowed, still confused, trying to understand Anakin's words, the _real_ Anakin.

"Dreaming?" Anakin nodded, offering him a shaking hand which Obi-Wan took without a second thought. Obi-Wan caressed his fingertips softly, making palm to palm contact firmer when he made sure that, indeed, he had been dreaming.

Obi-Wan looked up, watching Anakin's eyes, those he knew and adored, big and kind, always with that sad trace behind them. He smiled and Anakin did too, a perfect gesture curving a pair of lips that tempted Obi-Wan with every movement. A dream, it had all been a dream.

"Are you alright?" asked Anakin while Obi-Wan took one hand to his head, massaging his forehead.

"Yes… I'm not used to dreaming and it's confuse," Anakin nodded, entwining his fingers softly with Obi-Wan's now he seemed to have recovered the sense of reality.

"Believe me, it's confuse even when you're used to them," Obi-Wan nodded, getting closer to Anakin and relaxing.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" whispered Obi-Wan after looking at the dark city through the window.

"She kicked me out of the room for no reason. I think it's the hormones what have her like this, I hope."

"Anything I can do for you?" Anakin took a pensive expression while he looked at their entwined hands. He could do everything for him, but he wasn't asking that.

"Not really, although I could use a hug, bet you need one too," Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow but before he could protest, Anakin had leaned forward, had surrounded his waist with his arms and had rested his head on his chest, closing his eyes in the process. Obi-Wan tensed automatically, too conscious of the strange dream that still lingered in his memory. "You don't usually hug people, do you?"

"No, not really."

"It works better if you put your arms around me," Obi-Wan nodded, surrounding Anakin's body with his arms, relaxing when he felt how perfectly their bodies seemed to fit. "That's better."

Obi-Wan nodded, allowing his hand to travel to Anakin's hair, burying in the curls he had loved since that first dream. He was beginning to notice that he was putting too much of himself on Anakin, a young man he barely know and as far as he knew, could be a selfish bastard. But he wasn't… Obi-Wan knew Anakin was the closest thing to perfection he would ever see, too good to be contaminated and… In his first dream they had ran, it the second one Anakin had changed… did he had the power to stop that from happening?

Obi-Wan looked into Anakin's face, relaxed and with his eyes closed and, not thinking about it, he pressed a kiss to the soft skin of his forehead. He would take care of Anakin.

* * *

End chapter V 


	6. Confusion locked between a pair of lips

**xopoison911: **ugh, I got that wrong, didn't I? Anyway, thanks for the tip, I'll change that :P

**BrynneErin: **yeah, some people have been having problems leaving reviews here... anyway, thanks for trying :) I'm glad you're liking this, specially that part on tha balcony, hard to write I tell you! Thanks!

**Phoenix Red Lion: **we'll see about those dreams... but you're right, they are so cute! Yes, not a lot of people feel sorry for Padmé... poor woman. Anyway, thanks a lot!

**TempleMistress: **it's always such a pleasure to get a review from you! You are right, they barely know each other, do they? But there's tension indeed... and Padmé, well, she is kind of twisted, I'm actually having a lot of fun writing her in this (I've never actually tried to make her an important part of a fanfic, same goes for Palpsy). I hope you like this! Much love and hugs, and take care of that cold of yours!  
**Xtine:** oh, you're not the only one having troubles with reviews here, fanfiction seems to be against me or something... You were right about Palpsy being fun to write, and have no worries, yours is positively evil! And oh, poor Obi, I'm being mean to him having him like this... but I adore writing this sexual tension between them (with Padmé always on the way!) Love and thanks!

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Chapter VI: Confusion locked between a pair of lips 

"… All I want is someone I can't resist

I know - all I - need to know

By the way I got kissed…" _Cryin'_, Aerosmith

Anakin sat on the bed, desperate. He took the datapad between his hands and tried to focus on the reading he had selected; completely boring, by the way. He had tried fixing droids, running, organizing something, anything, buy every activity seemed to be finished too soon, leaving him once again in the state in which he had to wonder: _what next?_ The truth was he just wanted to sleep, or maybe see Obi-Wan and… and… just look at him. Sleeping of course, was out of the options because he would risk having unwanted dreams and there was no one close to woke him up in such a case. As for Obi-Wan, he was with Padmé in… what had she said? He wasn't sure, some kind of meeting probably. Any case, he was trying not to melt every time Obi-Wan laid his eyes on him, although he wasn't getting very good results on that. His last option was go to see the Chancellor, but the thing is you don't look for the Chancellor, the Chancellor looks for you. Anakin couldn't just appear in his office and ask him to stop taking care of universal politics because he was having a crisis.

Anakin sighed, taking one hand to his neck. He needed to focus and forget about the gorgeous Jedi of his dreams, especially now that Padmé seemed to be noticing something. Was he being that obvious? Padmé seemed to have started this silent war against Obi-Wan and, even when Anakin didn't like being the center of attention, he couldn't stop thinking that he was the reason. To a certain point, he couldn't help but cheer at the thought of Padmé actually paying attention to him, even when he had to pity poor Obi-Wan, who had no fault in this.

Obi-Wan hadn't tried a thing, he hadn't even hinted that there might be something joining him with Anakin, but… it was there, that indescribable feeling that connected them when they looked at each other, the tingling that went from his toes to his head when they were in the same room and _God!_ That unconscious necessity of touching him. Although maybe, Anakin was just imagining everything and Obi-Wan was simply trying to be nice with the young and innocent husband of senator Amidala. After all, that was what most of Padmé's acquaintances used to do, firmly believing that Anakin was happy receiving a few crumbs of their affection.

"Anakin," Anakin looked up when he heard Padmé's sweet voice and saw her entering the room, closing the door behind her. Anakin smiled and Padmé returned the gesture. "Are you reading?" the questions left the senator's lips in a mocking tone, almost incredulous.

"Why do you have to be so mean?" Anakin stood up abruptly, leaving the datapad on the bed. "If you wanted an scholar in your bed you could have married one."

They held their gazes for a few seconds, until Padmé broke the contact and walked towards her dressing-table, sitting in front of the mirror slowly and picking up the heavy sleeves of her dress once she had found the most comfortable position. Of course, the most comfortable position of a pregnant woman was still unbelievably uncomfortable. Padmé sighed.

"I'll be in the common room," Padmé looked at Anakin, almost surprised that he was still there.

"Sure, of course, I guess you'll find _someone_ in there who deserves your attention," Padmé looked at the mirror again, studyingthe expression in her husband's features from it. "Send Tarmé in, will you? I can't get rid of this bun by myself."

Anakin flinched involuntarily. How could she be like this? Padmé had sounded _hurt_. For the flicker of a second, Anakin had seen rage in her orbs, understanding suddenly that she wasn't just being mean but giving away her feelings, only to return again to the state of pure passiveness she took when they were together. Anakin doubted. He blinked a couple of times and crossed his arms over his chest, unsure.

"Anakin, did you hear me?" Anakin looked at her through the mirror, wondering if there was still some part of their marriage that deserved to be saved or if he should just leave her and go to Obi-Wan's arms, honest and warm, perfect and desired. "Anakin?"

"I…" he coughed, lowering his eyes to his hands. Maybe, with a little bit of effort, a little bit of honesty… "why don't you let me help you?"

Padmé parted her lips, surprised while watching her husband walk towards her and take his hands to her hair, trying, with few ability and a lot of care, to unfold the complicated curls of her hair. When the first curl fell on her naked shoulder, she couldn't help but close her eyes, feeling for the first time in a long time the necessity of being loved.

"You're beautiful Padmé, you know that, don't you?" and Padmé nodded, because she did.

* * *

"Ouch!" Anakin took his finger to his mouth automatically, sucking softly.

"Are you alright?" Obi-Wan, standing up from the sofa and leaving away his datapad, walked to where Anakin was sitting on the floor and made him take his finger out of his mouth. As erotic as the image of Anakin licking his finger was, there should be a more orthodox way of taking care of his wound.

"It was nothing, just all this wires," explained Anakin, trying not to think about how close Obi-Wan's mouth was now that he had sat on the floor next to him. "See? It's not bleeding anymore."

"You should be more careful," Obi-Wan looked up, Anakin's finger still in his hand. When exactly had he gotten so close to Anakin? He couldn't be sure, but certainly, he seemed to always end up far too close to him. "Specially–" he coughed slightly, "specially if you spend so much time fixing er, um… stuff," Obi-Wan let go of Anakin's finger, getting his face farther from him too. Anakin smiled. "Do you like mechanics?" the question had an obvious answer, but Obi-Wan had the feeling that if he didn't say something he was going to succumb to Anakin's lips.

"I'm just good at it," Anakin shrugged, taking importance out of it. "Although… can I see your… your…" Anakin pointed at Obi-Wan's waist and Obi-Wan couldn't help but blush, "your lightsaber?" Obi-Wan almost sighed, relieved. His lightsaber, of course, what had he been thinking about?

"Of course," Obi-Wan took his hands to his weapon and gave it to Anakin, who took it reverently. "Be careful."

But the truth was the weapon seemed to fit Anakin's hands perfectly, his grip on it the one of a trained Jedi, the exact strength on it. The weapon sprung to life between Anakin's hands, the bright blue light darkening the sun itself, and Anakin watched it completely awed. He caressed the hilt up and down, allowing his fingers to distinguish the details. Anakin lowered his eyes to Obi-Wan's hand and, with firm fingers, he made him extend it, drawing then his palm. Anakin's right hand found a hole in the hilt and his left one found a mark on Obi-Wan's palm.

"Your hands… they are just like your weapon."

Anakin made the blue light disappear, held the hilt with both hands, caressing the cold metal. Obi-Wan hit himself mentally when he started wondering what more could Anakin touch like that. Anakin, in the mean time, had taken the weapon to eye level and studied it with detailed, almost professional eyes.

"It feels powerful," said Anakin finally, clutching the hilt with both hands again.

"It is," Anakin nodded, offering Obi-Wan the weapon, but not letting go of it when he touched it, making their fingersmeet on the metal, creating an intoxicating contrast between the cold material and the warm skin.

"Obi-Wan, you never answered my question," Anakin looked into Obi-Wan's eyes, trembling when he felt his breathing on his face, caressing Obi-Wan's thumb on the saber.

"Que-question?" Obi-Wan tried to frown, but the muscles in his face seemed to be static while his eyes watched the tip of Anakin's tongue lick his own lips.

"Yes; have you ever kissed anybody?" Obi-Wan swallowed. He shook his head, completely incapable of producing any sound. "I thought so," and Anakin's voice was a choked whisper, almost a moan.

"Anakin, I–" but Anakin was already kissing him.

No, he wasn't really kissing him, he had only put his lips above his, a soft tingle that started to expand through his body, reaching every part. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and Anakin took the hand that didn't hold the saber to the back of Obi-Wan's neck, changing the angle of his face and pressing their lips stronger, finding the chocolaty flavor he knew Obi-Wan's lips had. Obi-Wan felt his shields melt and started to get dizzy, but the truth was he wanted to stay that way forever. Anakin's hands seemed to burn his skin, his accelerated breathing caressing his face, his eyelashes, soft and light, touching his cheeks and his lips, _oh_ his lips, they were on his, soft, wet, _real_, perfect.

The sound of the comm. entered Obi-Wan's half drugged brain strongly, high, annoying, screaming _come back to reality. _And he did. Obi-Wan separated from Anakin, almost as if someone had entered the room. He took one hand to his mouth, his eyes, frenetic and confuse, trying to read Anakin's expression. Without another word, Obi-Wan took one shaky hand to his comm. while standing up, taking with him the hilt that had joined their hands. Obi-Wan walked to the balcony and, before answering the call, he saw Anakin drag himself to the room in which Padmé, _his wife, _worked.

* * *

"Kenobi," Obi-Wan took the comm. to his ear, holding himself against the railing and trying to focus. It wasn't easy. _Force, _what had just happened?

_"Why so laconic, Obi-Wan? Is the senator that unbearable?"_

"Mace," Obi-Wan didn't know if he should be feeling relieved or worried. Mace wouldn't push him on any subject, but he knew him too much. Then again, master Windu's imagination would never produce an image close to what was happening with Obi-Wan.

_"The same one. Tell me Obi-Wan, how are things going? Did you talk to the senator about her going to Naboo? I assume she didn't like the idea, did she?"_ Obi-Wan swallowed and closed his eyes tightly, looking for the shields he had lost. _"Obi-Wan?"_

"Er… yes, no, I mean… er…"

_"Obi-Wan?"_

"She said she would think about it, that's it. Although she doesn't seem to like any of our suggestions, we might want to try some reverse psychology… She's so twisted."

_"And here I thought she was an old friend of yours."_

"Not really a friend, Mace," Obi-Wan inhaled deeply, separating from the railing and pacing. Mace. Padmé. He had to focus. "What are the chances of starting an investigation? I don't think she will be attacked with me two steps behind her, it would be more productive to search for this attackers ourselves."

_"I know, but the rest of the Council doesn't like the idea all that much. We wouldn't send you anyway, so you'll have to bear with her some more. But come on Obi-Wan, convince her about that trip to Naboo, you know, use her pregnancy as an excuse, offer her one of your smiles and she won't be able to resist."_

"I'm sorry Mace, but I don't think she likes me."

_"I'm surprised Obi-Wan, what factor could come between the effect of your wonderful kindness?"_

"I…" Obi-Wan coughed softly, taking one hand to his forehead. "I don't know but... do we have anything on her husband?"

_"Is there a husband?"_

"Of course there's a husband, Mace," Obi-Wan snorted, shaking his head. "He… well, I don't know that much about him but he is not a politician. His a Force user Mace he–"

_"Force user?"_

"Yes, he makes me dizzy, I had never felt someone like him… but he seems to be this great mystery. He… he has tea with the Chancellor and he is younger than Padmé and Force, he is pure and honest but he has had such a hard life and–"

_"I'll send a padawan to investigate him if you're so interested. There has to be something if they're officially married."_

"That's not really necessary."

_"If he is as strong as you say… it might be, what's his name?"_ Obi-Wan bit his lip, unsure.

"Anakin Skywalker"

_"Anakin Sky- wait a second, Anakin? Anakin I-dream-about-you-and-I-don't-know-who-you-are Anakin?"_

"Yes Mace, that Anakin."

_"Obi-Wan, I think it won't be necessary to tell you to mind what you get yourself into, right?"_

"Don't patronize me, Mace."

* * *

Anakin had tried. He really had. He had looked at Padmé the way he had when he had first laid his eyes on her, he had caressed her hair, he had touched her soft features, he had leaned his ear on her belly, he had smiled at her, he had held her hand while watching her sleep, admiring her parted lips, her long lashes, he had even tough about waking her up just to see her eyes. He had tried. He had tried loving her again, and he had thought he had managed to do just that. But everything had been useless, since the moment Obi-Wan had looked at him every image of Padmé had gotten lost inside his memory, his desire focusing on the Jedi's strong hands.

"Are you alright, Ani?" Anakin looked at Padmé when she sat on the bed and next to him, leaning a small hand on his knee.

"Yes, everything is fine," Padmé smiled, taking one hand to his face and forcing him to look at her.

"Come here," Padmé's lips caressed his, too unsure, too soft, feminine and sensual and so incorrect, but Anakin couldn't bring himself to separate, forcing himself to kiss her, her, his _wife. _

Padmé took one of his hands to one of her breasts, which Anakin touched almost with fear. They were swollen, more than he remembered and they felt soft under the too adorned fabric of her dress, soft and even stranger that her suddenly aggressive lips. Without a second thought, as a reflex, Anakin took his hands away from her and separated their lips.

"Padmé, I don't…" he whispered, his mind looking for an excuse, something that wouldn't force him to confess that he needed to feel a firm masculine chest under his hands, calloused hands touching his skin, another set of lips exploring his mouth. "I'm not in the mood."

"You're not in the mood?" Padmé took her hands away from his, drawing an invisible barrier around herself. "One thing you're good at and you're not in the mood?"

"You haven't touched me, what I'm I saying? You haven't even looked at me in months, and you're trying to make me feel bad about this?"

"You have got to understand that hormones are playing with me. Besides, I have a job that makes me tired, so it's normal that my necessities have sudden changes, and you should be ready for those," Anakin didn't produce a sound, but he stood up with a jump.

"If what you want is a whore, just pay for one."

* * *

Obi-Wan flinched when he heard the door slid shut with a loud thud. Anakin emerged from his room and, not looking at him, he walked to the closest wall and hit it hard, his white knuckles producing a loud crack when crashing against the hard material. Before he could repeat the action, Obi-Wan had stopped his hand, forcing him to extend it and looking at the damaged skin.

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, whose eyes stayed on the superficial wounds he had just produced himself, a soft thumb caressing the reddened skin delicately. Obi-Wan looked at him questioningly and when their eyes connected, all Anakin could do was throw himself into Obi-Wan's arms. Far from rejecting him, Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around his back and caressed his untidy hair when he buried his face in Obi-Wan's neck.

"Obi-Wan, I think I'm in love with you," Obi-Wan had to make an effort to hear the choked sounds coming from Anakin, but when he deciphered his words, he had to choke back a moan.

"Don't say that; you barely know me," Anakin swallowed hard and raised his face, leaving the safe space of Obi-Wan's neck to look at him.

"And you barely know me, but you're trembling. You always do when you touch me."

"Anakin, I… don't ask me more than I can give you," Anakin moved his eyes away from Obi-Wan, but he grabbed his chin and made him look at him. "Everything is going to be fine, I promise, but–"

"You're a Jedi and I'm married," Obi-Wan nodded, allowing his hand to travel down Anakin's features, sighing when his fingertips touched his lips. "I just don't know what to feel anymore."

"You love your wife and I just–" but his speech was cut once again by a pair of warm lips above his.

Warm and perfect, caressing his until they parted slightly, sucking his lower lip, caressing and reaching the upper one, letting go into a forbidden sensation... Forbidden, desired… Before his shields could loose their form again, Obi-Wan moved away abruptly, getting away from Anakin's body.

"Ana–"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I... I'm sorry," Obi-Wan nodded, trying to calm his breathing.

"It's ok Anakin, just… just don't do that again," _because I won't be able to resist.

* * *

_

End chapter VI.


	7. Past

**Lincoln Six Echo: **well, yes, confusion, blisful confusion all around! I guess they both have their problems and charges, don't they? As for Padmé... well, she IS a bitch, but she has her own troubles. Thanks! Glad you're liking this!

**Xtine: **oh! They're believable! It's great to hear that... specially when they're being so dammed hard to write at some points. Virginal Obi is actually being kind of difficult for me, becaouse I always write virginal looking Obi, who's actually a hidden sluty sex god who knows how to take charger... as much as I love that version, this fanfic called for virgity, and it's kind of new for me. I'm glad you're liking this and that you're hooked... Thanks!

**TempleMistress: **this Anakin is sweeter, isn't he? I just feel that without the Jedi in the way he's much more innocent, and that makes us all want to hug him. You're completly right about Padme. Shewasn't meant to be all that important in this fanfic, but I've found adephtin her character that I'm actually enjoying: seeing her playing this little games withObi-Wan, not wanting to loose. She's fun to write. Well, just thanks, as always, specially if you think I'm improving (that's always nice to hear). Thanks

**BrynneErin: **tee hee, everybody seemed to love Anakin telling Padmé off (well, she deserved that, dammit). Thanks, it's great that you're liking this. Thanks!

Well, you people are going to have to be patient with me because I'm starting exams next tuesday (I finish the 17, so it's not that bad). Altough, knowing myself, I'll just find the time to write this, specially because in almost completly planned in my head. Actually, I wasn't going to translate this one till next week, but I just couldn't concentrate knwing that it was already written... anyway, hope you like this!

Monchy

* * *

_Chapter VII: Past_

"The secret of boring people consists on saying it all." Voltaire.

Palpatine licked his lips, the bitter flavor of his too cold tea forcing him to twist his features. He entwined his fingers and took the joined hands to his lap while leaning back, sitting comfortably on his seat and nodded, offering Anakin the beginnings of a smile. The boy kept talking, about wires, ships, droids, who knows? Palpatine was more interested in the hidden details of his mind than in his conversation.

Anakin was a bright light in the Force, almost blinding, capable of getting dizzy the most useless Force user with its confusing and direct waves; but with a few well places shields (and Palpatine knew a lot about shielding) it was easy to go through the cape of bright colors that surrounded Anakin's unconscious and get to the center of his little head. It didn't take all that much understanding to get the kid, after all, he was not brilliant. His mind only registered two directions: mechanics and Padmé. Now, tough, a third and insistent thought was creating a shelter inside him: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Palpatine made his smile wider, disentwining his fingers and ceremoniously putting his hands on the arms of the chair. He had thought that breaking Kenobi was going to take more time, but the scene of a stolen kiss kept repeating itself on Anakin's mind. The boy was definitely captivated by the Jedi, practically in love with a man he barely knew. He suppressed a laugh, reaching for his cup and stopping a few millimeters from it, suddenly remembering that the liquid was too cold to have good taste.

He wondered what exactly was going through Kenobi's mind right now, how did the little Council member feel after not being able to avoid feeling attracted to and ignorant and married boy. Any case, this meant that he could make his plans happen sooner, adding that bit of drama to the imminent romance to break any resistance Kenobi might still have.

"So tell me, Anakin," the Chancellor stopped Anakin's boring speech in the first opportunity he found. The boy closed his mouth, smiled and nodded, educated and so deliciously malleable that Palpatine felt tempted to open his eyes to the Dark side definitely; but no, it was too soon. "What do you think of Obi-Wan Kenobi? An interesting man, don't you think?"

The reaction was immediate, subtle, imperceptible for someone who wasn't Palpatine. A little change in his posture, an eye movement and oh, that wonderful change around Anakin's Force signature.

"Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Anakin. You know my opinion about the Order, but master Kenobi is certainly an exceptional man," Palpatine stopped – an effect pause – and continued, "in every sense of the word, don't you think?"

"Er… yes, interesting and… he's, he's nice."

"Sure. Well, Anakin," Palpatine stood up, starting to walk around the table at the same time Anakin got to his feet. "If you excuse me, a boring political reunion is bound to happen here. I doubt that the repetitive diatribes exposed will amuse you."

"Alright, Chancellor. It's been a pleasure, as always," Anakin smiled, and Palpatine repressed from imitating the gesture. The kid was so influenceable that it was even adorable. "I believe I–"

"Anakin."

Anakin turned on his heels, watching the two new characters that had appeared in the room. Padmé, probably summoned to the mentioned meeting and, as always, Obi-Wan after her. Anakin offered the Jedi a half smile and then forced himself to look at his wife.

"Padmé, I was leaving already. I'll see you later, I guess?"

"Yes, of course," then, the room stayed silent.

Palpatine had to use all his will power not to laugh hysterically. The tension in the room was so thick that it was almost visible and his three puppets seemed to be conscious of that fact. The senator had always been too intuitive for her own good, and not only did she realize that her marriage had become a lie, but she could see the new interest her husband's heart had taken. The great Obi-Wan Kenobi, the perfect Jedi, composed and so protected by his impenetrable shielding was so confused and lost that it was almost sad. If he had known that all he needed to create such a confuse mix inside Kenobi was Anakin, he would have introduced them before.

"Chancellor," ignoring his internal diatribes, Obi-Wan was the first one to react, offering Palpatine a light inclination of his head.

"Master Kenobi, senator. The rest of the congregates must be arriving soon," before he could finish his statement, senator Bail Organa crossed the door, followed by Mon Mothma.

Anakin, feeling that the room would soon be filled with far too many politicians, gave his goodbyes and left the room, stopping only for a few seconds to caress Obi-Wan's open palm.

Palpatine turned around, smiling a little. This was going to be much easier than he had thought.

* * *

When Mace had insisted on an investigation on Anakin's past, Obi-Wan had considered the idea absurd, not to say unnecessary. Anakin had nothing to hide, and Obi-Wan didn't want to loose his trust for such a minor thing. Of course, Obi-Wan hadn't told Mace that, and the master had done any investigation he had thought necessary. Surprisingly enough, there was more behind Anakin than Obi-Wan would have thought.

Obi-Wan leaned his elbows on the railing; he sighed. It was true that Anakin didn't have to trust him, but Obi-Wan had expected him to. The facts Mace had given him about the senator Amidala's young husband were certainly intriguing. Maybe Obi-Wan should have asked himself why Anakin hadn't asked about the Force user business once Obi-Wan had mentioned it, but maybe Anakin himself made him loose his deductive abilities. Or any other abilities, for that matter.

Obi-Wan took one hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, trying to focus. But focusing when Anakin was close, even if it was in another room, was starting to become more and more complicated. It wasn't just the Force around Anakin but himself, his eyes, his hands and oh, those lips that had kissed his, stealing away his reasoning. Even now, he could feel a soft lingering tickling, the memory of a kiss, and the promise of many more if he simply allowed it. But, of course, he couldn't do that.

"Do I bother you?" Obi-Wan turned his face around towards Anakin who, with half a smile, leaned against the doorframe of the double glass doors that welcomed the balcony.

"No, of course not," Anakin left his position and started walking towards him, whileObi-Wan returned his eyes to Coruscant's skyline. When Anakin reached him, he imitated his position at his side.

It was easy. It was far too easy to stare at the horizon with Anakin by his side, remain in a comfortable silence, pretending that nothing but the knowledge of a few days joined them. It was much easier than recognizing that there was something more, that there had been before they even met and that there would be for a long time. It was easy, but it wasn't real.

"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Obi-Wan after a few seconds that seemed shorter than they actually were. Anakin turned to look at him, finding Obi-Wan's eyes with his own.

"What do you mean?" the question and the youngest one's expressionspoke of confusion and curiosity, but a light of recognition shined behind his eyes. Obi-Wan half smiled, not offering an answer.

Anakin lowered his eyes, lookedat the sky. He was going to find out eventually, right? Any case, it wasn't such an important fact, just part of his past, an already taken decision. Perhaps, it was something more for Obi-Wan, the piece that finished the puzzle.

"I don't know what you're talking about," whispered Anakin, allowing Obi-Wan to decide the course of the conversation. Obi-Wan didn't make a sound, shrugged and looked for Anakin's hand with his own. Their fingers entwined, and that was enough to make Anakin look at him again.

"When I told you you were a Force user… you already knew. A Jedi found you when you were nine, Qui-Gon Jinn–"

"I don't know if I should feel offended because you took the liberty of investigating my past, but I guess it doesn't matter now," Anakin lowered his eyes, watched their entwined fingers. "Qui-Gon offered me everything I could have ever wanted, in exchange of leaving my mother behind. I had to make a decision, and that's exactly what I did."

"Anakin, you could have been… But I guess there's no point in arguing about the what ifs now," Obi-Wan sighed, shrugged again, unsure of if he wanted to find a reason to accuse Anakin or if he just wanted to get lost inside the soft caress of his hand. "That's where you met Padmé, right?"

"You seem to be awfully informed of–"

"I was there, Anakin. Qui-Gon Jinn was my master; I wonder why he never mentioned you…"

"He said he would return," said Anakin, looking up again. "He never did. I guess even the best of men loose their faith in me eventually."

"Qui-Gon died Anakin, and with him, all traces of your existence."

"I'm sorry," Anakin's answer was immediate, a whisper to remember the one who had looked like a legendary hero to him.

"That was a long time ago, Anakin… He talked to the Council about you and they kept your data on the archives, but they decided that you were too old… Qui-Gon would have convinced them, he would–"

"That doesn't matter Obi-Wan, not anymore. I made my decision, maybe the wrong one…," Anakin shrugged. "No one can assure it."

"But–"

"Any case, the life of a Jedi is not for me," the words left Anakin's mouth with so much conviction that Obi-Wan flinched involuntarily, searching Anakin's eyes with his own.

"How can you be so sure?"

"That Code of yours, those… words that are more important than any thing. No passion, no emotion, no love… I couldn't."

"You just say that because you don't understand it, because you don't–"

"Obi-Wan, I respect it, I admire it, you Jedis are… the heroes of our world, but I wouldn't have been happy with that kind of life."

"And you say that because you're so happy now, of course."

Anakin pressed his lips tightly, making them look like a thin, tense line. It seemed that for the first time, Obi-Wan had snapped, had hit a switch of what could be a furious honesty, marked by soft, almost imperceptible gestures. Obi-Wan's eyes had broken the contact with his, his hand had separated from Anakin's. A recrimination to his actions, his decision, completely irrational, almost absurd. Hurting.

"How can you be so sure?" asked Anakin in a whisper, looking at his hand, which had stayed floating in the air after loosing Obi-Wan's. "After all, you barely know me."

* * *

Running was easy, and that's why Anakin did it. His left ankle, the one he had hurt in an accident during a pod-race, had been complaining for a few days now, but the soft stab of pain couldn't compare with the freedom running offered. When he reached the wanted velocity, even his hair, glued to his forehead with sweat, left its prison and moved with the wind, light curls marking the same rhythm his legs had.

Running was easy. While his muscles stretched, producing the precise movement, the one recorded inside his head until it was unconscious, his figure seemed to be a part of the place around him, just the memory of a human being lost in his own world. While he ran there were no rules, no problems, no dreams, no dealing with the relationship he had with his wife, with his unborn children and, above all, with Obi-Wan.

He shouldn't do that and still, it was the only thing crossing his mind. But no, while he ran he had to forget. He had to. He had to take Obi-Wan's face out of his head for a while, that recriminatory look that seemed to be written with fire inside him. No, fuck Obi-Wan and his personal doubts, that confusion that had forced him to separate from his lips. And still… but Anakin was running, fast, without thinking, listening to the sound of his own feet against the wet floor, allowing the water accumulated on it to wet his pants.

A stab more painful than the others in his left ankle made him loose his balance, but he was fast enough to continue his way in a few seconds. He twisted his features when he started being conscious of the pain, but he didn't go slower. He opened his mouth, letting the air reach his lungs through his parted lips, and he licked the sweat that started to accumulate above them.

Who was Obi-Wan to judge him, anyway? Why should Anakin care about what he thought? But he cared, more than he was willing to admit to himself. Maybe, if Obi-Wan hadn't appeared in his life things would have been easier. Still, Anakin couldn't find a reason not to want to be close to Obi-Wan, between his arms, joined to his lips.

Anakin sighed and, before he could react, his body fell forward. He managed to get his hands on the way of his fall, stopping his face from crashing against the floor, scratching his skin in the process. Nevertheless, the little scratches were almost painless compared to the stab that surrounded his ankle and part of his left leg now.

"Fuck!" the scream came out of his throat more out of frustration than pain but, anyway, it was enough to calm his accumulated fury.

Anakin took his hands to his ankle, looking at the swelling that was starting to take a purple color. He touched it softly, but the simple brush against his skin was enough to make some tears accumulate on his eyes. He put his hands on the ground and, after some uncomfortable moves decorated with some cursing, he managed to stand on one foot.

The walk to his apartment was painful and uncomfortable, enough to make some of the tears leave his eyes and slid down his cheeks. It hurt, God it hurt and when he reached the apartment, the pain seemed to increase when he noticed that it was empty.

"Obi-Wan?" his voice had diminished until it was only a whisper and, just as the last times he had called his name, he got no answer.

He would give anything to fall between Obi-Wan's strong and safe arms, but all he managed to do was to fall on the bed, tired, in pain, infinitely alone and choking with traitorous tears. After all, Anakin couldn't remember a second of his life in which he had been completely happy, and damn Obi-Wan for reminding him and not being there tostop his tears.

* * *

Obi-Wan wasn't very sure if what his senses told him was real or just a lost thread of his imagination, but he thanked that Padmé disappeared behind the doors of her bathroom for a while. His steps took him automatically to the double bedroom she shared with her husband and, as he had suspected, there was Anakin, laying on the bed, hugging the pillow and obviously awake, even when his eyes were tightly closed.

Obi-Wan walked towards him, stopping next to bed and looking at the traces of tears on his cheeks. While biting his lip, Obi-Wan sat on the edge of the bed, putting one hand on Anakin's arm.

"Anakin," he got no answer, then again, he wasn't expecting one.

That afternoon there hadn't been screaming between them, not even a forceful word exchange and still, the traces of hurting words had created a gap between them. Anakin had looked so hurt, he had answered his comment with sharp words, putting them between his lips with the only purpose of awakening something inside Obi-Wan, fury maybe, maybe pain.

"Anakin," he shook the younger one's shoulder, but he stayed static. "Anakin, I know you're awake," this time, Anakin moved his shoulder, forcing Obi-Wan's hand to move away. Obi-Wan, not changing his expression, grabbed Anakin's arm once again. "Anakin, wi–" but once again the young man made a move, forcing him to take his hand away. "Anakin, p–"

"Will you leave me alone?" Anakin sat on the bed, staring at Obi-Wan with a pair of red eyes, watching him lean back. Lowering his head, Obi-Wan nodded.

"Alright," before Obi-Wan managed to stand, Anakin was already regretting his words.

"Obi-Wan, wait," Anakin stood up with a jump, his arm reaching for Obi-Wan, only to receive a sharp stab of pain on his forgotten ankle, and to fall forward. This time, tough, Obi-Wan's arms stood between him and the floor.

Anakin's face stayed buried in Obi-Wan's chest, his hands clutching his shoulders. Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around his waist and made him stand correctly, forcing him to stay balanced on one foot.

"Come on," Obi-Wan moved them a few centimeters and, seconds later, they were both sitting on the bed, Anakin's arms surrounding Obi-Wan's neck, his face finding his shoulder, breathing an scent that was already familiar.

Obi-Wan pressed Anakin against himself almost unconsciously, caressing his back slowly, up and down, in imaginary circles. He felt Anakin's muscles loose their tension, relaxing completely between his arms, letting go in the feeling of protection Obi-Wan emanated. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, took one hand to Anakin's soft curls and just breathed, trying to forget the constant noise of his conscience. A Jedi forms no attachments. Everything dies eventually, everything passes, love and pain, and that's why a Jedi doesn't allow attachments to a world he's meant to leave. As a Jedi, wanting to let go into an incomprehensible passion and becoming Anakin's something else made him feel sick, but as a man, wanting Anakin felt so natural that it couldn't be wrong.

"You weren't fair with me," whispered Anakin against his neck, forcing him to open his eyes. "Those words–"

"I know, and I'm sorry," Obi-Wan moved a little, letting Anakin look up. "I shouldn't have…"

"I like that you're honest with me; most people don't take me seriously enough to be honest with me."

"Don't talk like that," Obi-Wan's hand went from his curls to his neck, caressing the soft skin with a firm thumb, "don't say those things," Anakin half smiled.

"But it's true, that's why I like you being honest… but please don't judge me. There's already too many people telling me what to do and I–"

"Alright," Obi-Wan smiled, and Anakin couldn't help but imitate him. "What happened to you ankle?" asked Obi-Wan then, changing the tone of the conversation and forcing himself to separate from Anakin before… before something inappropriate happened. Anakin put his foot on the bed, showing him the reddened ankle.

"I had an accident when I was little and it swells sometimes, but it's ok," Obi-Wan took Anakin's ankle in his hands, making him lean his foot on his thigh and looking at the hurt skin. He pressed softly and Anakin offered him a loud ow. "It hurts, but it will be better tomorrow."

"Are you sure? Shouldn't you see a healer or put something on it or–" Anakin took one hand to the one Obi-Wan leaned on the swelling, stopping his words.

"It's ok."

"What did this anyway?" Obi-Wan looked up, keeping Anakin's foot on his thigh and letting his thumb caress the skin softly.

"I crashed my pod-racer against a rock and landed a few meters away, so I guess I was lucky."

"You could have broken your head… pod-racer? I thought humans didn't race those," Anakin smiled, leaning back on his elbows.

"I do. I loved it and I was good. I'm fixing a speeder, giving it extra velocity and putting some accessories in the motor. Once it's ready it will be amazing," Obi-Wan smiled, watching Anakin's eyes shine to the idea of fast machinery. "I would love to pilot an starfighter! Would you let me?" Obi-Wan simply arched an eyebrow. "Er… pretty please? If you don't I'll be forced to pout, and you must know I'm irresistible when I pout," Obi-Wan laughed softly.

"Really?"

"Of course, I'm so adorable you won't be able to deny me anything."

"Let's see."

"And show you my secret weapon? No, it will catch you by surprise when you least expect it."

"I'll be w–"

"Am I interrupting something?" both men looked towards the door, from where Padmé watched them.

"Er… Padmé, hi. No, it's just that... I fell while running this afternoon, remember my old wound?" Padmé didn't even nod, taking a couple of steps into the room.

"It had been hurting for days and I told you not to go running. If you only listened…" Padmé let the words drag slightly, staring at Obi-Wan, sitting on _her_ bed, laughing with _her_ husband.

"I... will be outside if you need me, senator."

"Of course Obi-Wan… outside."

* * *


	8. The bond

**Xtine: **yep, Padmé IS a bitch, I think we all agree there! Glad you like Palpsy and that you want to cackle evelly with him, that's great to hear. And oh, you're right, Obi is weak, far more than he thinks (then again, who wouldn't? With Anakin pretty much begging to be loved). Well, thanks! Love and hugs!

**TempleMistress: **I'm so glad that you like Padmé so much, seriously. I never thought a character like her could give me so much room to play with, but she's just perfect for tension purposes (and given that her husband is in love witha male Jedi, the least thing I can do is make her smart, right?). Thanks so much! Hope you like this!  
**Phoenix Red Lion: **hmmm, happy ending? We'll see... yep, we all want to kill Padmé for being a bitch, but you know, she is the wife, so she stays... for now(tee hee). Thanks!

**ladylina: **oh, you little perv you! Deep down, we all wonder the same... Love!

Phew, this was a hard one, so I hope it came out right! (specially since I should have been studying for my mechanics test instead of writing this... P)

* * *

_Chapter VIII: The bond_

"… I saw your face in a crowded place,  
And I don't know what to do,  
'Cause I'll never be with you…" _You're beautiful, _James Blunt

_Padmé's face was a map of encountered feelings. The lines in her forehead spoke of held rage, her gaze of a strange fear, the curve of her lips of pain. Her hands clutched the white sheets that surrounded her, her knuckles becoming whiter with every second that passed, her fingers contorting in impossible positions. Despite everything, the blood, the pain, the fear, only soft sighs, some higher than the rest, left her mouth between tightly pressed lips._

_Beside the laying figure of the senator, Obi-Wan sank his hands in the pockets of his thick robe, visibly nervous. His expression was blank, almost fake, but his eyes, fixated on Padmé, looked frenetic, changing constantly from a bright blue to a dark green, his pupils dilated. _

_And Anakin… Anakin wasn't there. His wife was giving birth to his children, loosing blood, scared, but beside her wasn't her husband but the man who was probably her husband's lover. Anakin wanted to scream, break his vocal cords hauling his wife's name, Obi-Wan's maybe, but he couldn't, he couldn't do a thing… because he wasn't there._

_A sudden scream left Padmé's throat and when Obi-Wan reached for her with a shaking hand, she grabbed it, pressing the long fingers between hers. Obi-Wan's lips moved articulating some word, but he couldn't hear, once again… because he wasn't there. Where was he? His wife was dying, where was he?_

_Anakin tried to force his lungs, to go through the white barrier that stopped him from reaching the scene, scream, scream loudly until his throat bled, scream and scream and scream and scream…_

"Anakin!"

When the familiar voice pronounced his name, Anakin stopped his screaming unconsciously, opening his eyes in a swift movement. His retinas complained, forcing him to look into reality through half opened eyes. Reality… yes! Because this was it: he, laying on his bed and Obi-Wan sitting next to him, clutching his shoulders and looking at him with worry in his eyes.

"Ob… Obi-Wan?" when his mind rationalized the situation, it took his body less than a second to launch against Obi-Wan's chest, starting to breath normally only when the strong arms embraced him.

"It was just a dream," whispered Obi-Wan against his neck, caressinghis naked back with soft hands.

"A dream?"

"A dream," repeated Obi-Wan, leaning back. Obi-Wan took both hands to his face, cleaning the involuntary tears that had left his eyes.

"Was I… was I screaming?" asked Anakin, letting his hands slide from Obi-Wan's shoulders down to his chest. Obi-Wan just nodded, raising Anakin's face with both hands and looking into his eyes, two bright dots in the poorly illuminated room.

"You should go back to sleep, you don't look too good."

"No," Anakin shook his head exaggeratedly, clutching Obi-Wan's clothes strongly. "I can't sleep, Padmé dies when I sleep, she… she–"

"Anakin, it's just a dream."

"No, no, I don't… I can't, I can't dream, I can't see her…"

"It's ok, it's ok," Obi-Wan put one hand on Anakin's forehead, leaned closer. "Come here," Anakin closed his eyes instinctively, feeling very tired suddenly, more tired than he had ever been. He felt his senses starting to numb, his strength leaving him, his limbs starting to sink on the bed while a soft murmur inside his head seemed to surround him, cloud his thoughts, staring to…

"What, what are you…" but Obi-Wan shushed him and then he couldn't speak. He allowed his weight to fall on Obi-Wan, drowning in invisible hands that guided him towards unconsciousness and, before falling in a deep sleep, he was only conscious of Obi-Wan's scent against him.

Obi-Wan held Anakin's asleep body for a few seconds and then laid him on the bed, covering him with the sheets that had pooledaround his waist.

"What did you just do?" Obi-Wan turned his face to look at Padmé, a soft smile between his lips. The senator, dressed in a thick blue robe and with her wet curls falling on her shoulders, walked the steps that separated her from the Jedi and the bed in which Anakin slept.

"I put him in a Force induced sleep," explained Obi-Wan, standing up, "that way he won't dream," Padmé twisted her features, taking her eyes to the laying figure of her husband.

"It won't hurt him?"

"I would never hurt h–"

"No, of course," Padmé raised one hand, stopping Obi-Wan's reply with a dismissive gesture and sitting on the bed, right on the spot he had taken seconds before. "You wouldn't hurt him," Padmé took one hand to Anakin's hair, putting some curls away from his face, "you worry about him, don't you?" the senator looked up, her hands still between Anakin's hair but her eyes fixated on Obi-Wan's. Obi-Wan looked away.

"Does he have a lot of nightmares?" he asked. Padmé half smiled, looked back at Anakin.

"Yes, but he doesn't talk about them," a bitter smile crossed her features, "at least not with me."

* * *

Anakin closed the door behind him and repressed a sigh. He knew Padmé could get very irritable if she was bothered while working, but how was he supposed to know that she was? He had been lucky getting only a couple of acid retorts from the whole incident. Padmé could be really scary when she wanted to.

"Are you alright?" asked Obi-Wan from the sofa when he spotted him.

"Yes, I am now… what exactly did you do to me?" Anakin walked towards Obi-Wan, sitting on the sofa next to him. "Some kind of Force trick?"

"I just induced your sleep, you looked like you needed it," Anakin smiled, nodding.

"Than–"

"Excuse me?" they both looked at one of Padmé's handmaidens, who had just entered the room with a cup of tea between her hands.

"Yes, er… Tarmé?"

"The senator asked me to tell you that she will be working for a few hours and that she needs some privacy."

"Yes, sure, thank you," Tarmé bowed slightly and continued walking towards Padmé's office. "I already bothered her and suffered the consequences so yeah, thanks," Obi-Wan smiled.

"How do you distinguish them?" asked Obi-Wan, pointing to the place where Tarmé had stood seconds ago.

"I don't," Anakin shrugged. "They all wear the same clothes and all that make up… they should wear name tags or something."

"By the way, I've been meaning to ask you… those nightmares, dreams, are they very frequent?"

"Yes, I've always had repetitive weird dreams, the thing is they're so tangible… almost as if they were real," Anakin sighed, taking his hands to his neck. "Sometimes they drive me crazy."

"I thought that maybe, if you want to, I could teach you some basic meditation."

"Meditation?"

"It can help you lift some barriers that may stop some dreams from filtering. You wouldn't be conscious of them, of course, and you wouldn't be able to control them, and it might be useless, but–"

"You want to teach me a Jedi trick?" Obi-Wan smiled, shaking his head.

"It's not a Jedi trick, just meditation," Anakin nodded, doubting. What Obi-Wan hadn't said, of course, was that a minimum of control on Anakin's mind would diminish the effect he had on his mind. Besides, he was proposing Anakin what the Order recommended in the case of untrained Force users. Bases, that's all.

"Alright, sure."

An hour later. Anakin, sitting on the floor in front of Obi-Wan, opened up one eye, looking at the Jedi's perfectly calmed face. He sighed and closed his eye again, moving his shoulders back and stretching the numb muscles. Look for you center, Obi-Wan had said, let go, relax, leave your mind blank. His fingers started to tap on his knee when Anakin realized that this time, it wasn't going to work either.

When a hot hand held his, stopping his movement, he gasped.

"I think you're not grasping the concept of relaxing."

"But I'm bored," Anakin opened up his eyes, whining as a five year. "The Force is supposed to be exciting, not this…" Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, sighing.

"We had that conversation five minutes ago."

"So maybe I can't do this," Anakin relaxed his shoulders, defeated. Obi-Wan sighed, shaking his head and then, he raised both hands, showing Anakin his palms.

"Give me your hands, I'm going to guide you. We'll just have to be careful," Anakin took both hands to Obi-Wan's, entwining their fingers softly. "You have to focus, you could get lost otherwise.

"Lost?"

"Just be careful."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and Anakin imitated him. Instantly, an strange sensation started surrounding him, something close to a whisper, a slight pressure on what now seemed to be an intangible world around him. He pressed Obi-Wan's hands between his, suddenly conscious of every part of his skin, almost as if it was his own. He opened his mouth, letting a sensation that was Obi-Wan's touch fill him.

Anakin felt how he ran out of air. His lungs contracted desperately, but something crushed them, forcing him to open his mouth looking for oxygen and, still, nothing reached him. He felt isolated, choking and still, a bright light in front of his eyes stopped him from feeling any kind of fear. He closed his mouth, pressed his eyelids tightly, looked for Obi-Wan's hands and then, he started breathing normally.

Anakin opened his eyes, feeling capable of seeing it all without actually seeing a thing, conscious of his own body even when he couldn't feel it. He reached for Obi-Wan with one hand, conscious that his limb and the Jedi were only ideas, a feeling mixing with all the rest. Anakin turned on his heels, getting lost inside the bright light that surrounded him, wanting to explore every corner of this new subconscious place. He walked forwards, backwards, fell down, flied up, all of that without moving, being held only by Obi-Wan's constant presence.

Obi-Wan felt him get away suddenly, with no previous warning. Anakin's presence seemed to get lost all of a sudden, falling into a black hole he couldn't reach. He felt a stab of panic, not very sure if it was his or Anakin's and then, he tried to scream his name, but no sound left his throat. Obi-Wan reached for a Anakin, looking for a trace of something that allowed him to get to him. Obi-Wan let some of his shielding to fall, localizing the rudiments of some kind of way that seemed to lead to Anakin. He used them as a guide and then, with a swift flash of desire, his walls crumbled, creating a line of union from what had only been shredded pieces. Obi-Wan felt a explosion of white light behind his eyes, nausea mixing with necessity and then, he opened his eyes.

Obi-Wan's hands held Anakin's face, his lips against Anakin's, pressing against soft skin tenderly. Obi-Wan separated from Anakin, surprised, suddenly conscious of his own body. Anakin blinked a couple of times, apparently as surprised as Obi-Wan.

"I… I… I'm sorry," Obi-Wan pronounced the words with a husky voice and, with that, he stood up and walked to the bathroom, ignoring Anakin's call behind him.

Locked behind the bathroom doors, Obi-Wan covered his face with his hands, repressing a whimper by biting his lips. What had he done, what had he done, what had he done, what had he done?

He had taken the rudiments of something unknown and had formed a bond. A Force bond with Anakin. Obi-Wan pressed his hands to his temple, feeling an uncomfortable pulsing inside his head. A bond… a bond Anakin couldn't feel. Anakin's Force signature was so completely uncontrolled that the bond seemed to want to compensate by smashing his shields, looking for some sort of balance between such a union.

"Force!" Obi-Wan leaned on the wall, looked at his own reflection in the mirror.

Whether he wanted it or not, Anakin was now a part of him.

* * *

Padmé closed the door as carefully as she had opened it, not wanting the occupants of the other room to notice her, although she suspected not even a concert of sounds would have distracted them.

She took one hand to her chest and closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them again she turned on her heels and walked to her dressing table, sitting in front of the mirror tiredly. While she watched her own reflection, she wondered if what she had just seen had been the first kiss or just another one. She laughed softly, shaking her head, did it really matter?

Her eyes had registered, with no surprise at all, how Obi-Wan, hands on Anakin's face, leaned forward to meet his lips softly. It had been just a brush, a touch of lips against lips and still, intimate and erotic. She had never thought Anakin capable of such tenderness; nevertheless, his lips had seemed like silk above Obi-Wan's.

Padmé had felt – she still did – furious and humiliated, but not a trace of sadness crossed her. She had decided to retreat to her room and not to make an scene, after all, she would have to cope with Obi-Wan's presence until the Jedi Council decided she was safe. She sighed.

She felt defeated. After all, stunts and words had been useless, since Anakin had finally ended up between Obi-Wan's arms, a male member of the Jedi Council. It was almost funny. She should have known that everything was going to crash when she had noticed the way Anakin and Obi-Wan looked at each other. Anakin had never looked at her like that, and she certainly hadn't looked at Anakin like that. Anakin and her, never, not even when no human force had been able to take them out of a bed, had shared that intangible bond her husband seemed to have with the Jedi.

Dormé had looked at her just as Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, with purity and something close to adoration. Sometimes, when she helped her out of her heavy dresses, her handmaiden's hand would change her way and caress soft skin, and that seemed to be enough to make her happy; also when she combed Padmé's hair, entwining her fingers in her soft curls or when the senator offered her a proud smile. Dormé had loved her, but Padmé's problem was that she didn't know how to love.

It almost seemed logical that Anakin had found someone else, that someone that would make him smile with just a look. Because after all, Padmé knew that they hadn't shared more than a kiss, she knew Anakin's hands hadn't caressed Obi-Wan's skin and she knew Obi-Wan hadn't moaned against the naked skin of his husband. Obi-Wan and Anakin still had a long way ahead of them which meant that, after all, Obi-Wan had won a battle, but not the war.

* * *

"Care to explain me what exactly happened this afternoon?" Obi-Wan closed his eyes when he heard Anakin's voice behind him. The recently created bond between them was still pulsing in his head, trying to look for stability. Anakin's Force waves seemed to be confusing Obi-Wan's mind, though.

"Nothing, Anakin," whispered Obi-Wan, swallowing and looking for a center. "Nothing happened."

"Nor did the other day, right?" Obi-Wan opened up his eyes, but he kept them looking forward, his back to Anakin. "I could kiss you every minute of every day and you will always insist that nothing happened, am I right?"

"Anakin, we discussed this already."

"No Obi-Wan, you discussed it," Obi-Wan felt Anakin walking towards him, but when he felt his chest against his back, it wasn't his Force signature what made him swagger, but Anakin's scent so close to him, his hot breath against his face. "I… never told you about my dream, did I?" Obi-Wan closed his eyes again, feeling unstable, "my dream about you," Anakin's voice was soft and deep against his ear and when his arms circled his waist, Obi-Wan clutched them strongly, leaning his back on Anakin's chest, letting him support his weight.

"Anakin, I–"

"No, let me tell you," Anakin leaned his forehead on Obi-Wan's head, letting his nose caress the soft skin of a cheek, his lips brushing his ear while moving. "I'm on a bed, kneeling, and you're behind me, inside me, thrusting slowly, slowly, so slowly…" Obi-Wan swallowed, repressing a moan between sighs.

"Anakin, please."

"Your hands are on my stomach, on my thigh, soft, slow and then, your lips move against mine, infinitely perfect while you make love to me and–"

"Anakin, An… please."

"Please what?" Obi-Wan parted his lips, trying to calm his suddenly fast breathing. "Look at me, Obi-Wan," Obi-Wan kept his eyes firmly shut, his hands still clutching Anakin's strong arms. "Look at me," and Anakin's voice didn't articulate an order but a beg, so Obi-Wan did just what he had asked him to.

Obi-Wan turned his face and, through half closed eyes, he felt Anakin's breath on his lips, his eyelashes caressing his cheeks when he closed his eyes. And then, Anakin's lips were above his, soft and perfect, hot against his own cold skin. Obi-Wan parted his lips instinctively, letting Anakin's tentative tongue enter his mouth between them, caressing slowly the traces of his breath, finding his own en movement that were unknown to Obi-Wan, in a ritual dance that now belonged to Anakin.

Obi-Wan took one hand to Anakin's hair, burying his fingers between the soft curls and just then, he was conscious of his legs losing balance, trembling when the fell kneeling to the floor. Anakin descended with him, kneeling behind him and not letting their bodies to loose a trace of contact, keeping the tangle that were their tongues, which got lost between mouth and mouth, between traces of soft skin.

"Anakin..." Obi-Wan's voice was a soft whimper when their lips separated.

Anakin opened up his eyes, watching reality through blurry eyes. He blinked a couple of times, adjusting his eyes only to see traitorous tears falling down Obi-Wan's face from his closed eyes. Not daring to release him, he leaned towards him, kissing both humid eyelids softly.

"Does it hurt so much to want me?" Anakin's voice was husky, desperate, and all Obi-Wan could do was move his face away, eyes still tightly closed, tears accumulating above his upper lip.

Slowly, almost with fear, Anakin moved his arms away from Obi-Wan, letting fall down his sides and watching Obi-Wan's hand cover his face, his tears. Anakin stood up, moved his eyes away from Obi-Wan, looked at his hands.

"I guess I should be used to rejection by now, shouldn't I?" Anakin shrugged, shook his head, repressed a sob. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."


	9. Now, sleep

**Phoenix: **well, Padmé has become quite the complex character, hasn't she? I think she is the one acting as the perfect controlled adult, the other two are just completely confused with everything... but let's see how they manage. Thanks!

**Lincoln Six Echo: **Thanks! Let's see what happens.. (er, I should know that, shouldn't I? tee hee). But I'm glad you're liking this. Thanks!

**BrynneEryn: **get the award for making you out of breath? Yey! hugs oscar-like award Yep, indeed it's not sex... it's kind of hard to portray desire without actually having them give in to it, but it seems to be working! Thank you so much!

**TempleMistress: **I believe that no matter what kind of universe we're talking about Anakin would still hate meditating... that's just our boy... Oh, yes, they're bonded! As for Padmé, I guess that she's the only one actually acting with her mind and not her heart (or other lower parts cough blush), so that's probably why she takes time to think everything through... but yes, she is bound to explode eventually. The boys... sometimes I just want to smack Obi for letting himself be happy, but I can't do that (well, I am the author, but...). Obi is confused and Anakin just wants him and they're both quite a mess, actually. Well, I'm glad you're liking this! hugs

**Alana Mousie: **yep, quite the angsty story for Valentine's Day I guess... glad you like it!

**Lea Nikkaya: **thanks! Glad you like it!

Hard chapter this one! And I think it's kind of boring...

* * *

_Chapter IX: Now, sleep_

"... hate me,

Do it, and do it again

Waste me,

Rape me, my friend…" _Rape me, _Nirvana

It was raining. Thick raindrops fell against the big crystal doors that opened the splendid balcony of the apartment, creating a permanently annoying murmur, occasionally interrupted by wind blows. Anakin liked the rain; it had been quite a novelty when he had left Tatooine, an almost freeing discovery, the symbol that he had finally left the chains that had tied him to his natal planet. Today, though, the continuous crashing of what some corny senators liked to call the crying of heaven felt not only annoying, but also slightly irritant. Anakin felt that it was like an scene taken out of those crappy romance novels in which the climate seemed to follow the feelings of the principal character: if the heroin was depressed and lonely, the day was gray and rainy, while if she was happy, the sun shined more than ever. Then again, Anakin wasn't arrogant enough to think that the climate revolved around his feelings.

Anakin sighed and lowered his eyes to the pieces he was holding between his hands. He had started building his own lightsaber the same day Qui-Gon Jinn had left Tatooine. Perhaps it was a way of canalizing a bitter feeling that had stayed inside him after all that, but in any case, it was useless. He had tried for years, he had modified it, renewed it, destroyed and remodeled it, butit had never even been close to the weapon Obi-Wan had let him hold. It lacked that kind of inner power, that firm vibration he had felt when having a real Jedi weapon between his hands. But he had to keep trying, just not right now.

He looked at the windows, watching drops caress the crystal in the same way tears caressed his cheeks and, in an impulse, he threw the weapon against them, hearing with a morbid satisfaction the hollow sound of it crashing against the unbreakable glass and the pieces breaking when reaching the floor.

He was probably being selfish by asking the love of a Jedi, but he was just looking for a place to belong and Obi-Wan felt… _right_. Anakin hugged his own knees, burying his face between them and biting his lip strongly, trying to stop his sobbing. He would have liked to feel furious, but he didn't have the energy, so he was just drowning in his own misery and remembering himself once again that there wasn't a place in the world for him and that no one was ever going to love him.

His mother; his mother loved him of course, but he remembered sitting at a table with her husband and her stepson, pretending to be a big happy family. His mother's new family had been kind to him, nice even, but Anakin had known that he didn't belong there, that he would never be a part of that. But his mother was happy and Anakin had let her be by leaving Tatooine looking for adventure.

Padmé had never truly loved him, at least not like a wife loves her husband. Anakin wasn't very sure of what she felt, after all, Padmé was probably the most complicated woman he had ever met, but he suspected that it was something between maternal care and patronizing tenderness. Anakin had been far too ambitious thinking that someone like senator Amidala would give him her heart and life, not to mention her children. Yes, because they were going to be _her_ children, educated the way she wanted and dreamt, although it might just be for the best, allow them to become great people even if that made them think that their father was nothing more than a failure.

Obi-Wan… God, Obi-Wan was a completely different story. Obi-Wan was a man he had learned to love before actually meeting him, a specter of his dreams for a while, and then a real figure he just couldn't reach. Did it matter that Obi-Wan wanted him, that Anakin offered him his heart on a plate? Obi-Wan was never going to accept him… Anakin was just a kid, a kid with no place to drop dead.

* * *

Obi-Wan wasn't very sure if it was his headache or the bond palpitating against his shields or perhaps the mix of both, but the senator's voice seemed to be three times higher than it was normally. Senator Organa's though, seemed to have a lower tone. Perhaps the bond was distorting his senses, or maybe Obi-Wan just needed a pill and some sleep. Or maybe… There was not real maybe, Obi-Wan knew what he had to do. Obi-Wan had to go to the Council, give the details of the situation and let them send someone else here and then investigate the bond that insisted on hitting his shields. 

Of course, doing that would imply making Anakin an Order business, and there was some kind of possession feeling inside him that wanted Anakin to be only his very own business. His and not the Order's. Obi-Wan's and not master Kenobi's. He was acting like a child, he was risking not only his own mind but the senator's life, maybe even Anakin's, but he felt incapable of facing Yoda's green eyes reading inside him what he was not willing to recognize himself. And still, Obi-Wan was conscious that sooner or later he would need a healer to go inside his mind and put a little order in there. Perhaps Luminara… But he would think about it some other time, when his heart stopped pounding harder than his head.

* * *

_It had to be a dream. It had to be a dream because Obi-Wan's lips were against his, soft and perfect, moving with his, caressing his tongue in a known dance, in a moment that was just theirs, intimate and erotic: the kiss you give a lover. Because only lover's lips fit as perfectly as theirs did, pieces of a same puzzle, mouths destined to stay together forever. Obi-Wan was his and he was Obi-Wan's, and the soft touch of lip against lip was the only proof they needed._

_Obi-Wan pressed more against his body and Anakin surrounded him with his arms, almost as if afraid of him disappearing. But he wouldn't, he couldn't because Anakin's arms held him in the place he belonged to, against his lips and his chest, his and only his, his lover, his friend, his heart, his to love and protect. Obi-Wan whimpered into the kiss and Anakin thought he distinguished his own name against his lips._

_Yes, Anakin._

_Anakin._

_Anakin!_

_And Anakin couldn't be sure why suddenly Obi-Wan's lips seemed to want to separate, why his pleasure tone had gone to a scared one. Obi-Wan trembled between his arms, so Anakin pressed him even harder against his chest, wanting to offer him heat, protection, whatever he needed. But Obi-Wan kept trembling and now he seemed to want to separate, pushing against his chest. Obi-Wan couldn't move, because Anakin wouldn't let him._

_Anakin felt blood against his lips the same instant his nails dig Obi-Wan's skin, unconsciously breaking it in his insistence of keeping the Jedi's body against his._

_Anakin._

_Anakin, please, Anakin._

_Anakin._

_The voice was now a beg asking... what? Mercy… yes, mercy. But Anakin couldn't let him, he couldn't let go because then Obi-Wan would vanish and he would be alone. Obi-Wan couldn't leave him, he couldn't, he couldn't… so he pressed him more, digging his nails deeper in the open wounds, feeling blood against his mouth and running between his fingers, humid tears sliding down Obi-Wan's cheeks and wetting his own._

_What had been lips fitting perfectly now were mouths contorting in impossible positions, fighting to keep the contact Obi-Wan tried to break. But Anakin couldn't let him go, he couldn't allow Obi-Wan to leave him. Obi-Wan was his. His, his, his, his, his…_

_Anakin._

_Anakin._

_Anakin, my Anakin, please._

_His Anakin, yes, because Anakin was Obi-Wan's and Obi-Wan was Anakin's and everything was perfect, wonderful… But there were tears and blood and desperation on Obi-Wan's voice, but Anakin couldn't let him go because he was his and he didn't want to be alone and Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan please don't leave me alone please you're everything everythingeverythingeverything and I… I… without you, I without you… but the blood and the pain, oh the pain but don't leave me alone… don't leave alone…

* * *

_

"I don't know Mace," sighed Obi-Wan against his comm., "I have given up with this woman. If she wants to do something she will, but if she insists on contradicting me… but I guess that she will understand eventually that going back to Naboo is the smart thing to do," Obi-Wan heard a sigh very like his own, but he decided to ignore it.

_"And you're sure that–what? Oh, yes–hold on a sec, will you, Obi-Wan?" _Obi-Wan nodded, ignoring the fact that Mace couldn't see him. He kept the comm. against his ear, hearing a conversation while his eyes went to the senator who, sitting as comfortably as her state allowed her to, read some kind of reports. He watched the senator sigh, rubbing her eyes. _"Obi-Wan?"_

"Yes, Mace?" Obi-Wan gave him his less exasperated tone, expecting Mace to report to the Council that he had sounded _healthy _and _untroubled. _He knew that the frequent calling didn't had any other purpose than keeping an eye on him.

_"So you're saying that nothing has changed," _Obi-Wan repressed a sarcastic comment, focusing on the senator's figure.

"No attacks, no nothing... why don't you try to convince the Council to allow me to start an investigation?" Mace sighed, Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and the senator took a wine glass between delicate fingers. "It would be more productive than sitting here and–" a strong pull in the Force.

_"Obi-Wan?"_

"Senator, wait!"

Before Padmé could react, Obi-Wan had dropped the comm. link and had ran towards her, his lightsaber very close to her skin but crashing against the glass she had been holding. The dark red liquid stained the floor, creating parodies of blood on the carpet. Padmé held the rest of the glass on her hand, watching the blue light of the saber surprised, willing to ask for the sudden move until, between pieces of glass and stains, she saw what could be a centipede cut in half.

"What? What the Hell…?" she articulated, her hand still clutching a piece of glass.

"I… hold on a minute," Obi-Wan put the hilt of his saber back on his waist, walking to his initial position and picking up the comm. "Mace?"

_"Obi-Wan, what happened?"_

"I'll call you later," ignoring Mace's protest, Obi-Wan cut the conversation, walking back to the senator, who still looked at the _thing_.

"What is that?" with a calm her expression didn't represent, Padmé looked at Obi-Wan.

"Some kind of worm with legs," whispered Obi-Wan, shrugging.

"That I know!"

"I do believe, senator," started Obi-Wan, crouching among pieces of crystal, "that screaming won't be necessary," Padmé crossed her arms over her chest, huffing. "I think it's some kind of parasite, probably capable of killing you from the inside of your body."

"Killing me?" Padmé shook her head, reprimanding herself for her own useless questions. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes for a few seconds. "So I was supposed to ingest _that_ without noticing?"

"It was probably dormant and needing heat to wake up. I don't think you would have had time to expulse it once it had touched your mouth," Padmé took her hand to her mouth, wrinkling her nose.

"Are you saying that… I think I'm gonna be sick."

Obi-Wan turned his face around to see the senator walk towards the bathroom, a tiny hand still covering her mouth. Obi-Wan stood up and followed her, crouching next to her when he saw her trying to vomit with no result.

"Try to breath through your nose," Padmé took one hand toher suddenly sweaty forehead, the other one still covering her lips.

Obi-Wan stood up and, grabbing a small towel, he soaked it with cold water and crouched next to the senator again, forcing her to move her hand away from her forehead.

"You don't have to–" Obi-Wan shut her up with a look, putting the towel on her forehead and forcing her to raise her head. "You don't have to do this."

"Stop acting like a child, senator," Padmé opened up the eyes she had closed seconds before, her lips starting to curve into a pout. Deciding that wouldn't be proper, she relaxed her shoulders and breathed slowly.

"I won't be able to hate you if you're this nice with me," Obi-Wan chuckled softly, trying to cover the fact that the senator was being completely serious.

"You should get some rest," Padmé nodded, letting Obi-Wan take the towel from her forehead to her scalp.

"Alright."

"I'll call one of your handmaidens."

"Ok… ask them to take care of the living room too; those wine stains are going to be hard to clean," Obi-Wan shook his head, allowing Padmé to use his shoulder as support to stand.

"You're quite cynic, aren't you, senator?" Padmé offered him a smile. "I'll take care of everything."

Obi-Wan stood up, leaving the senator the wet towel, who proceeded to wet her neck, undoing some of the buttons of the heavy tunic she was wearing.

"Obi-Wan," Obi-Wan turned his face before leaving the room, finding her eyes through the big mirror that covered one of the walls of the room, "I'm very thankful for… everything, but this doesn't change a thing," Obi-Wan repressed a laugh: Padmé Amidala had made the first direct comment ever.

"I know senator, I know."

* * *

"It's fine my dear boy, don't let ire consume you." 

Paradoxically enough, those were the exact words that left Chancellor Palpatine's lips when a frustrated and enraged Anakin punched the wall of his office, leaving traces of blood on the sober light paint. Palpatine took the young man's hand between his own, looking at the superficial wounds and avoiding a smile when he felt the action bring to Anakin's mind the memory of Kenobi doing the exact same thing.

Ah, poor innocent Anakin, so full of anger. For an exterior watcher, Anakin could look as the calmest being of the galaxy, but that was just because the beauty of his tortured soul was completely buried under layers and layers of self-imposed repression, making Anakin a bomb ready to explode. Of course, the moment of the explosion depended of Palpatine, not of Amidala or Kenobi, much less Anakin himself.

Palpatine let the young man keep talking, allowing himself the pleasure of examining his own thoughts. Yes, it was time. The plan was so simple it was almost stupid, then again, Palpatine had been forced to improvise. His initial plan had consisted on allowing the prissy wife to continue with her slow but effective way of distorting the senses of his future apprentice, but with the sudden appearance of Kenobi in the game the Chancellor had thought he ought to take advantage of it. As a bonus, he got to torture the Council member a little bit (after all, he had the right of some fun, too).

The thing was simple: arrange a kidnap for the kid in the right moment and let the machinery move by itself. Of course, the plan had more than one purpose. First of all he needed to make Anakin stronger, the boy needed to learn how to take some physical pain if he was going to become the threaten of the galaxy. Also, Palpatine couldn't be more interested in master Kenobi's reaction. Would he defy the Council? Would he act without its permission? Would he discuss with his dear colleagues? Would he kill that who had hurt his little Ani…? Ahh… such interesting questions.

He had contacted some street scum to take care of the job and he had given him instructions of what was allowed and what was not, specifying that raping was out of limits. He wanted Anakin furious, not traumatized… Besides, the young man would have to seduce the Jedi master eventually, and Palpatine knew there would be no affair between a virginal Jedi and a raped young man. He had also taken care of someone leaving something to guide Obi-Wan to the place where Anakin would be held: an innocent matchbox from a bar the young man frequented. Maybe he had been watching far too many movies lately…

On the other hand, he had implanted a deadly parasite on the senator's drink just to scare her a little and to keep Kenobi ready. Also to make everyone believe that the senator was the important one in this whole business. Palpatine wasn't going to kill Amidala… yet. The senator had become precious when she had announced that she was carrying Skywalker's kids… twins who, trained by him, would take their father's place once they were old enough. Of course, if the children turned out to be useless, he would just get rid of them.

But now he had other things to take care of. He looked forward, watching Anakin pace in front of his table, babbling about something… the kid was so whiny. Palpatine stood up, entwining his fingers and walking towards the kid, who stopped pacing.

"Everything will be alright Anakin, you'll see," Palpatine offered him the start of a smile and, raising his hand slightly, waved it. "Now, sleep."

Anakin's body fell heavily to the floor, his limbs spreading on the red carpet in uncomfortable positions. It was almost funny: the greatest power of the galaxy unconscious at his feet.

"Don't worry boy, Kenobi is what you want and Kenobi is what I will get you."

* * *


	10. The Council

**Lincoln Six Echo: **well, well, Palpatine still has a lot to say in this, he's the bad guy, after all. Thanks!

**Lea Nikkaya: **thanks!

**TempleMistress: **yey! It's great to have you engaged to this! Yep, Anakin is actually easy to keep in character, the poor thing has a sad life, Jedi or not, and he's just frustrated (who wouldn't be?). As for Obi, well they guy is too nice for his own good, and I just couldn't picture him beign mean towards a pregnant sick woman, even if Padmé is bitchy and the thing doesn't really change anything. Well, glad you're liking this! Thanks!

**yodudes5: **thanks! I've seen you've reviewed some of my other stories, glad you liked them!

**Alana Mousie: **thanks!

**Phoenix: **ok, I'll accept the chapter wasn't boring if you say so! Well yes, Palpsy id the bad guy and we hate him for that, but he's just sooo evil that's there's something intriguing about the character. I'll see what I can do about that happy ending. Thanks!

**ActChick13: **thank you very much! blushes

**Xtine: **don't worry, even if you don't review, I know you're there (now that doesn't mean you can stop reviewing... death glare tee hee, just teasing). Well, Obi-Wan just can be mean to a pregnant woman, he can't find it in himself, even if she _is_ bitchy and even if he _wants_ to screw her husband... I'm glad you like Palps, he's quite refreshing. All characters are angsting and having personal crisis and he's all like I'm the kind of the world, yey! He's very fun to write. Thanks!

Love you all!

hugs

* * *

_Chapter X: The Council_

"Be careful, oryour statues might squash you." Nietzsche.

Quinlan stopped for a few seconds before going through the Council Room doors. It had become almost a ritual; take a deep breath, let the air out, remind himself the reasons that kept him in the Order and then, plaster his best smile on his face and meet the severe faced masters. Nevertheless, this time it wasn't his own problem what was in his head, but Obi-Wan's.

If what Mace had said was true, then the Council was meeting behind the master's back, not to discuss the case of the missing kid, but to question Kenobi's capacities. In which moment had the Council gone paranoid, Quinlan couldn't be sure.

Quinlan shook his head and, with his best smile – always with his best smile – he entered the Council Room, walking towards what he liked to call the slaughterhouse, that is, the center of the room, from where the accused could be mercilessly scrutinizedby every master. Of course, this time he wasn't being accused, but had been asked for an opinion… He smirked to the idea of the Council seeking his wisdom.

"You're late, master Vos," master Poof offered him the worst look his tiny greenish eyes could master.

"I'm sorry, master Poof," Quinlan lowered his head, suppressing a laugh. His master had always lectured him on finding master Poof so amusing, but he just had that long neck and that tiny head… He decided not to look at him; the last thing he needed was laughing of the corporal form of a Council member.

"It's alright," all members turned their gaze towards Mace Windu, assuming that the meeting was going to start officially. Quinlan, though, felt incapable of taking his eyes away from Obi-Wan's empty seat. "As you all well know, master Kenobi has asked us to considerate sending Jedi help on the lookout for the apparently missing An–"

"Apparently?" Quinlan arched an eyebrow, looking into Windu's hard expression. " I thought that–"

"Master Vos, I'm reminding you that your presence here is that of a hearer. Stay silent until your words are needed," Mace dig his nails on the arms of his chair; he had known from the beginning that asking Quinlan into this session was a bad idea.

"Yes master, sorry master," Quinlan lowered his head, and, seconds later and walking fast, he sat on the seat that belonged to Obi-Wan.

"Master what–"

"I think it's the first time ever that I'm in this room without being accused of bad conduct, so I might as well get comfortable," Quinlan smiled widely, ignoring master Mundi's glare, "after all, there's not always an empty seat on the Council. Don't worry masters, I'll keep it warm for Obi-Wan," the Council members offered him all kinds of offended gestures, except Mace, who seemed to understand his statement, and Yoda, who smiled softly. Quinlan had always liked the little green fellow; he had a sense of humor. "Please keep going, master," Mace pressed his lips together, but made no comments.

"As I was saying, master Kenobi had asked us to take care of this search, he has even offered himself voluntary."

"What has the missing person has to do with us?" asked Depa Billaba, leaning forward. "Is our interest to participate in the destiny of…?"

"Anakin Skywalker," completed Mace. "According to master Kenobi, this may be connected to the attempts against senator Amidala's life, but we can't be sure. Personally, I think that it could be a trap to take our attention away from the senator or a simple casualty."

"Oh, come on!" the assembly looked back at Quinlan, who sat comfortably on his seat. "We're talking about Obi-Wan here, he wouldn't ask this if he wasn't aware of the circumstances, I don't think th–"

"Master Vos, please, shall I remind y–"

"No Mace, you don't have to remind me a thing," Quinlan faced the master's eyes, ignoring his hard expression. "We all know you brought me here to defend Obi-Wan's interests. Why would he ask this if the kid isn't important?"

"I believe that…" Mace looked away from Quinlan, searching for the best words to say this, "I believe master Kenobi might be influenced by personal feelings," Quinlan huffed laud enough for the whole Council to hear, rolling his eyes. "Master Vos, I won't allow you to disrespect this Council."

"This is not about respect," said Quinlan, crossing his arms over his chest. "So what if Obi-Wan cares about the boy? Obi-Wan hasn't cared about anyone since Qui-Gon died and you all seem to forget that Obi-Wan is, above all, a Jedi. He would never endanger the Order and you know it, but you prefer to meet behind his back and–"

"That's enough!" Mace raised his voice to stop Quinlan's speech. Quinlan huffed again, raised both eyebrows and leaned on the seat's back, defeated.

The meeting went on for a few more minutes, Mace giving the details of the situation and of this Anakin Skywalker's past. The masters nodded and questioned, but Quinlan knew they had condemned the situation beforehand and that his opinion meant nothing.

Obi-Wan had always helped him, he had covered some, er… doubtful situations for him and had always defended him in front of the Council, but Quinlan couldn't do a thing for him. They were condemning a man who had given his life for the Order for feeling something for this Anakin kid. So what if Obi-Wan fucked him every night? Force knew that man deserved that. Besides, Obi-Wan would never do something that could endanger the Order or someone's life.

"Alright, we shall vote then," Quinlan looked up when Mace said those words, examining the room silently. "Who considers our intervention necessary?" no hand or voice was raised, not even Yoda's.

"You know guys," murmured Quinlan while standing up, "for the most powerful people in the galaxy, sometimes you can be real assholes."

* * *

It had been has if his mind shut down. Everything had been fine, and suddenly, bam, a part of his mind had closed, leaving a strange empty feeling in what had been the forced bond. For the first time since the bond had been formed, Obi-Wan had allowed his mind to wander through the wire that would guide him to Anakin's confusing Force signature.

Nothing. Emptiness. White. Closed doors. And a terrible panic.

Obi-Wan had gone to Padmé almost unconsciously, asking for Anakin, expecting the senator to tell him that he was running or fixing something,that he was paranoid. But the senator had said that Anakin hadn't slept with her that night, saying acidly that she had thought her husband had been with him.

From that moment on, Hell had broken loose. When it had been clear that Anakin had gone missing, not just him but also his Force signature, Padmé had put all her security team and the local authorities to work. Obi-Wan had informed Mace of the situation, almost begging him to let him search for the young man. Obi-Wan was still waiting for an answer.

Obi-Wan was leaning against a wall, his eyes on the senator who, sitting on a couch, played with a matchbox. He sighed, took his hands to his hair, dropped them back. Obi-Wan was nervous, lost, numb. He had lost his capacity of staying cold in extreme situations, and all he could do was hear the beating of his own heart, which seemed to scream Anakin's name with each palpitation.

If something happened to Anakin, Obi-Wan would never forgive himself. Anakin just couldn't… he couldn't… _couldn't…_

"Is that all you're going to do?" Obi-Wan looked at the senator, who was standing up slowly, "stay there while Anakin might besuffering God knows what?" Padmé walked towards him, leaving the matchbox on the couch, a hard expression on her features.

"I do what I can, senator."

"Is that what you think? I've put all my security team in this search and what do you do? Wait for an answer of your Council, and you think that–"

"Enough," Obi-Wan didn't raise his voice, but his tone was enough to make the senator stop her speech. "What matters to the Republic is your security, so until the Council doesn't say a different thing, I must stay here."

"The Council! The power that rules above all, right? Oh yes senator, have some Jedi protection because the Council says so, wait for the Council to decide if your husband's life is worth it," Padmé raised her arms up, exasperated, pointed then an accusing finger towards Obi-Wan. "All the Council has managed to do is to get my husband in love with a Jedi and then kidnapped."

"At least this way you can pretend that you actually care," the sound of a hand meeting a cheek filled the room, but Obi-Wan didn't bother with taking a hand to his reddened face.

"Don't you dare judging me, Obi-Wan," said Padmé, her small hand still close to the Jedi's face. "The fact that you have something going on with him doesn't mean that you can–"

"There is nothing between Anakin and I," murmured Obi-Wan softly, leaving his eyes on the floor.

"Look at me in the eye Obi-Wan and repeat that," but Obi-Wan's eyes stayed down. "Now tell me that the only thing you can do is stand here while he is out there."

"I don't even know where to start looking."

"Well, find a way! You're the god-dammed warrior! If you're going to screw my husband the least thing you can do is worry about him, don't you think so, Jedi?"

"I haven't–"

"I don't care, Obi-Wan! I don't want to know if your Code has kept you away from his bed or if you've been occupying it for weeks, I don't care! But don't leave my children fatherless, don't let–"

"Do you really think I don't care senator?" this time Obi-Wan looked up, facing the woman's dark eyes, "do you really think that I want to stay here babysitting a capricious senator while the only person that seems to be worth it in this galaxy might be dying? Do you really think that?"

"Then go look for him!"

"I can't, because I'm a Jedi and I don't follow my instincts or desires, but a bigger cause, a cause for which your security is important and Anakin's isn't. So until the Council doesn't allow me to go to him, I'll wait here and take care of you, senator."

"But yo–"

"Enough!" groaned Obi-Wan, "stop telling people what to do, sit down and wait."

* * *

Mace Windu was furious; Quinlan always made him furious. He appreciated the man, he really did, but his necessity of supporting every subversive cause was absolutely annoying. Besides, there was the fact that the calmest and most collected Jedi ever was loosing it for a boyfrom who knows which lost planet.

Mace Windu was furious, and when he entered senator Amidala's apartment, he repressed a scream just because she was there, pointing at Obi-Wan while he gave her an irritated look. Windu wondered if the Jedi was facing the senator or the lover was facing the wife. When had all this become so complicated? The last thing Mace wanted was the Council kicking Obi-Wan out because of a silly infatuation.

"Mace," Obi-Wan was the first one to spot him, but the senator's eyes turned to him immediately. Padmé stood straight, shook her head and smiled.

"Master Windu."

"Senator, Obi-Wan," Mace made an imperceptible gesture to the senator and then looked into Obi-Wan's eyes, which shined dark gray in the room's light. "If you apologize us, I would like to speak to Obi-Wan in private," the senator started to protest, but as a second thought, she decided that it would be better to avoid confrontations.

"Of course."

Padmé turned on her heels, going then through the double doors and into the bedroom. There, she sat on the bed, suddenly feeling choked by the fabric of her heavy dress. She tried to untie the neck, stressed and tired, but she didn't manage.

When she took one hand to her tired face, she was surprised when she found tears sliding down her cheeks.

* * *

"So?" asked Obi-Wan once Padmé left the room.

"Hello Obi-Wan, I'm fine thank you," murmured Mace, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Mace, we're in the middle of a dangerous situation here, I think we can save the formalities," huffed Obi-Wan, uncomfortable and nervous.

"I'd hardly call this a dangerous situation."

"You don't have to repeat me your opinion on this," Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest, remembering the long discussion he had had with Mace to convince him to take this to the Council. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"No Obi-Wan, can you tell me what is happening with you?" Mace uncrossed his arms, starting to pace. "What is going on with you since you're here, what's this obsession?"

"Stop worrying about me Mace, and just tell me what happened," Obi-Wan pressed his lips tightly, repressing a scream. The last he needed was Mace lecturing him over something he just _couldn't _understand.

"The Council has decided not to give any help to the–"

"But I ha–"

"Not yours or anyone else's, Obi-Wan!" Windu looked at him with defying eyes, his height imposing over Obi-Wan's. "The Council's decision is irrevocable and unanimous."

"Last time I checked I was part of the Council too master Windu, and I believe you know how I feel about this."

"Your vow is unique, and I really don't think your condition is letting you think clearly."

"My condition?" Obi-Wan huffed, infuriated. Anakin could be dying in the worst place of Coruscant and Mace wanted to argue about his _condition._

"Yes Obi-Wan, your condition, because you're not thinking with all your senses if all you want is to leave an important senator to go looking for a young man that–"

"He is important!"

"Importantto who, Obi-Wan?To the galaxy,to the Republic,to the Order? Or is he just importantto you?" Obi-Wan buried his hands in his hair, trying to stop them from hitting Mace.

Why couldn't they understand that all he wanted was Anakin to be safe?

"Obi-Wan, we have all gone through something like this in our life, but we must leave it behind and–"

"Don't patronize me Mace," said Obi-Wan, taking his hands to his pockets, "don't talk to me as if I was an infatuated kid."

"I would if you stopped acting like one."

Obi-Wan stayed silent then, and so did Mace. Their looks faced for a few seconds, and Mace saw a shine behind Obi-Wan's eyes that had never been there. A necessity... a passion he hadn't seen even when Qui-Gon had been in danger, something _primitive. _And dangerous.

"I hope you remember that, above all, you're a Jedi," whispered Mace then.

"I will fulfill my duty, master Windu."

* * *

"So, what are you going to do?"

Those were the words that went through Obi-Wan's ears as soon as the door closed behind Mace's figure. Obi-Wan turned on his heels, looking at the senator who, leaning against the doorframe, repeated the same question. But Obi-Wan couldn't hear her, because he was getting dizzy and an incessant metallic noise crashed against his head bones.

He covered his ears with his hands and went out to the balcony, thankful when Padmé didn't follow him. Anakin could be dead and everyone was worrying about telling him what to do. He just wanted Anakin to be alright, he just wanted to see him smile one more time. He didn't care if Anakin hated or loved him, if he wanted or despised him; Obi-Wan just wanted him to be alive, well and happy.

He slid to the floor, clutching the railing strongly, almost expecting the cold contact of the metal to tear his palms and make them bleed. He would follow the way, he would follow it inside his head, that involuntary, unbalanced bond that _had _to take him to Anakin. He would go through capes of nothingness, emptiness and whiteness and would reach Anakin's mind. And then… and then… and then… he would send someone looking for him! If he couldn't leave the senator he wouldn't, but he wouldn't let Anakin die. With or without him, Anakin had all his life ahead of him, and Obi-Wan would make sure he kept it.

"Come on Anakin... just let me in," and with that, he let the Force guide him through an unknown immensity.

On the living room's sofa, a matchbox stayed forgotten.

* * *

"Did you have to sit on Obi-Wan's–"

"I was making a statement," complained Quinlan while Mace made some tea, "I don't see why you had to question Obi-Wan's abilities in front of the Council."

"He's infatuated with that kid," Mace turned to look at him, and Quinlan grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him closer.

"Really?"

"You know he is."

"And what do you have to say about that?" Quinlan trapped Mace's lower lip with his teeth, nibbling then on it. "How can you–"

"This is different," Mace turned his face away, but Quinlan grabbed his neck and forced him to face him, their lips mere inches apart.

"How is it different?"

"I wouldn't alarm the whole Order if you got kidnapped."

"That's so romantic of you, sweetheart," Mace made to separate, but this time Quinlan wrapped one arm around his waist, keeping him close.

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

"Quin…" Quinlan _always_ made him furious.

"So what if he goes looking for him?"

"He won't," Mace leaned against Quinlan's chest, defeated. "This is Obi-Wan we're talking about, after all."

"But what if he does?"

"He won't."

"Are you being dense on purpose, darling?"

"What are you thinking about Quin?"

"Me? Nothing pumpkin, don't worry your sweet Councilor ass with the thoughts of a rebel with no cause."

* * *

Yey! I got to play with Quinlan a bit, he's fun! And yes, Mace is a hypocrite and yes, Mace/Quinlan? What was I think about? Don't know, but I swear I wasn't high on anything... It just kind of happened, and it fits just so good in there. hides in case rotten fruit comes flying in her direction

Love your all!

Monchy


	11. Weak, cheated, humilliated

**Xtine: **so glad you like this Quinlan of mine, he's quite fun to write! And you're right, he's the only one who can actually call the Council members assholes and get away with it... Well yes, Mace is a bit of a hypocryte, but he's trying to do what's right while poor Obi is just angsting and wanting his Ani back... sigh And yep, Padmé is still a bitch. I write her to be a bitch, so I'm glad that she is. Well, I know you've already read this chapter, but here it is, at last. Love!

**yodudes5: **not the first time I get threatened like that, but I'll keep it in mind... gald you like it!

**Tavae Themisal: **I'll admit I'm not a fan of Padmé and that I'm writing her quite bitchy, but I really like how she's coming... A/P/O? Not on one of my stories, I can assure you that, specially this one... I wouldn't be able to fit that in, sorry! Glad you like, though, thanks!

**ArtChick13: **as soon as I can! Thanks!

**TM: **surprise character, right? I had been dying to get to the part in which he showed up, he's incredibly fun to write! I loke to have such an irreverent character like him, the story needed someone who could give some humor to the angsty plot and I just love Quinlan! (who doesn't?). Padmé slapped Obi-Wan, we know she had been wanting to do that for a long time, she just needed an excuse, and what better moment than such a tense one? As for the last part... I swear I didn't plan that, it just happen! They were going to be friends and suddenly Quinlan was groping Mace, it was all his doing, I swear! Well then, hope you like this! Love and hugs!

**marieken: **hi! Sorry it took so long, but my parents were visiting and yeah... they bring chaos with them, but here I am with a new chapter! I'm really happy you like my characteritation, really. Thanks a lot!

Finally has decided to let me upload this! Thank God!

* * *

_Chapter XI: Weak, cheated, humiliated_

"We are all under the hand of evil, all we need is a motive to experience cruelty on others." Anonymous.

The place smelled like semen and blood; the walls, stained with what remained from sexual activity – raping and prostitution probably – reeked of masculine scent; Anakin's back, even when his wounds had stopped bleeding some time ago, still carried the bitter smell of the vital fluid. Some time ago Anakin had resigned to breath between parted lips, but that didn't stop the odor from reaching his nostrils, awakening a sickening sensation in his stomach, which hungry fluttering was nothing compared the pain of his torn back. His wrists, too, seemed to palpitate between the thick ropes that held them, a trail of warm blood running between his fingers every time he touched the open wounds. His head, though, seemed to want to beat the rest of his body, buzzing continuously, numbing his senses.

Anakin didn't remember a thing. He had been walking towards Chancellor Palpatine's office and, in a moment his memory wouldn't remember, everything had gone black and he had woken up there, half naked and tied. He would have liked to have a moment of panic, but his head had started to hurt, leaving him with the only feeling he could remember until now: pain. There had been blows, yes, hands and legs meeting his body strongly, forcing him to go into a humiliating fetal position to protect broken ribs and hurt muscles. Anakin still couldn't know if there had been just one attacker or more, since his head kept pulsing, palpitating, hurting him more than any received blow.

And then, there had been the whipping. His first feeling had been surprise, his face contorting painfully to the use of such a primitive utensil. Maybe it was being used precisely because it caused a kind of pain that a weapon from the present century couldn't achieve. Anakin couldn't be sure of how long it had lasted, although he had the certainty that he had passed out before it finished, leaving his unknown torturer punishing an unconscious body. The wounds, deep and painful, had bled for hours, stabbing him with pain every time he had moved. Now, though, the pain of his head beat the one of his back. He suspected he had a fever.

Anakin leaned his forehead against the floor, hoping the contact with the cold surface would somehow help. It didn't. He moaned softly, closing his eyes tightly and ordered his head to stop palpitating, or at least to be kind enough to knock him out. Maybe he should lay on his wounds and let pain do the job, but he hoped he didn't have to use that idea, at least not just yet.

He felt weak; weak, cheated, humiliated. If he could just break free and put both hands around his attacker's neck, if he could just press, press and press until hearing the satisfactory sound of a ragged breathing, of moans asking for mercy and then, let go just a little bit only to press stronger, taking the life of that who had thought himself superior to him. Or maybe it would be better to use a knife, and old, oxidized knife to cut through hard skin, and watch thick, black blood fall at his feet, spurting from his enemy's neck. Or maybe… maybe it was time to discover those abilities the Force offered and take his life without touching him; he ...bet that his clumsily built lightsaber was enough to steal the breath of the disgusting being who dared keeping him trapped.

But the reality was – the fucking reality was – that he was tied and hurt, humiliated, helpless, beaten, drowned in his own misery as the vulgar slave he had been and that he would be if he survived this. His only hope, if he had one, was Obi-Wan deciding that his life was worth it and looking for him.

Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan the great warrior, the great diplomat, who was probably following his wife's steps, who should be happy of getting rid of him finally. Perhaps it was them who deserved his fury and not the innocent, stupid being that held him there, who was probably just a victim of society. Maybe it was senator and Jedi who were to blame for making him feel so, so, so… insignificant.

After all, why not blaming his wife? The one who had dismissed him, ignored him, patronized him, treated him like a child instead of her husband. Why not blaming Obi-Wan? The one who had rejected him, given him fake hope, managed to make him crawl on his knees with his heart in his hand just to watch it shatter at his feet. Why not?

"God, don't leave me alone, don't leave alone, don't leave me…"

And how could he blame him when all he wanted to do was rest between his arms? If he would only come and embrace him with strong arms and known scent, and whispered that everything was going to be alright, Anakin would believe him. Anakin would believe that he wasn't useless and miserable, that he could do something more with his life than becoming a slave or a murderer, that opening his eyes every morning was worth it. Anakin would believe any word that left those parted lips in that deep voice. He would ignore his fever, his back, his ribs, everything, if only Obi-Wan showed up and held him.

But Obi-Wan wasn't coming. Obi-Wan had forgotten about him, and he himself would have to save his life, he would have to feel a morbid satisfaction while breaking the anonymous necks that stood in his way, he would have to stain his hands with blood to look proudly into Obi-Wan's beautiful eyes and tell him that he didn't need him. And even if he had to lie, he would do just that.

He would do it, but only when his head stopped throbbing, when his torn skin stopped hurting and when his heart stopped screaming at him that there was still a chance for Obi-Wan to appear through that door, saber in hand, willing to take him out of there and tell him how afraid he had been for him.

"Dammit!" Anakin hit the floor brutally, tears sliding down his cheeks from his closed eyes when his back started complaining.

They would pay, they would all pay.

* * *

Quinlan leaned his elbows on the railing and looked at the city of Coruscant, annoying multicolor lights shining in the darkness of the night, great metallic buildings forming imposing shadows and tiny figures walking through crowded streets. Quinlan would dare to say that it was a pretty romantic atmosphere to fall in love, but he seriously doubted that the sight from senator Amidala's balcony had anything to do with Obi-Wan's feelings. After all, Obi-Wan wasn't cut out for romance; if he didn't know him, he would say that he was an uptight cold fish.

Although he probably didn't know him as well as he thought. He had expected at least a bit of resistance to the plan he had designed and proposed. He had expected Obi-Wan to wear that expression of his that made him feel like a naughty kid and to lecture him for even thinking about such a thing. Obi-Wan always did that when Quinlan proposed something out of the ordinary and morally questionable, even when he knew he was going to get convinced in the end. No one could resist Quinlan. But that afternoon, when he had showed up at the senator's apartment and had suggested that he could stay and keep the woman safe while Obi-Wan went looking for the polemic Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan had just blinked, incredulous, and after giving Quinlan an strangely ...spontaneous quick hug, he had left the room.

Quinlan still couldn't believe it.

And Mace was going to kill him.

Then again, it was true that Mace threatened more than any other thing. He had once confessed him that he just wanted to keep the reputation of hard and cold master, but that he was really soft deep inside. Quinlan already knew that of course, but he let Mace give him that little bit of trust he liked to keep for himself. It had been a great step for them.

What he couldn't understand, though, was how was Mace capable of accusing Obi-Wan in front of the Council for his feelings when he felt just like him. Quinlan liked to think that Mace didn't say an I love you because he was scared. He was Mace Windu after all, an the idea of intimacy terrified him.

Their relationship, or whatever they had, had started as all this things start: with alcohol. The initial plan had been getting Luminara drunk at her birthday, but all Quinlan had managed to do had been knocking Obi-Wan out (with the first drink he had started dragging his words, with the second one he had declared his love to a coat rack, firmly convinced that it was Siri and with the third one he had passed out) and taking Mace to his bed. When he had woken up between strong arms and with the worst hangover ever he had almost had a stroke, and when Mace had woken up he had gotten out of the bed as a scared animal and had looked at him with big surprised eyes. Of course, Quinlan had done the only logical thing to do: he had laughed. Mace hadn't spoken at him for a month and when he finally did, it was to scream at him his flaws and those of the rest of the Order, only to end up in his bead again. And there they were.

Mace drove him nuts and he knew he irritated the master to no ends, but somehow, they loved each other.

Still, Mace was so going to kill him for this.

* * *

Padmé turned the comm. off with a bitter gesture and took her hand to her tired neck. Very kind of the Chancellor to call and worry about the situation. Ha! Padmé still didn't believe that the Chancellor had a genuine interest on her husband. There was something… fishy about it.

But Padmé couldn't focus on that right now, because Anakin was still missing and Obi-Wan was still in her living room, doing nothing. The senator trusted her security team, but when it came to finding a single person in the vast city of Coruscant, some kind of special abilities were needed to find said someone and not just a lifeless body. Padmé didn't want to assist to Anakin's funeral. Despite everything, Padmé couldn't watch the innocent face of the father of her children with his eyes closed forever. It wasn't fair.

Padmé shook her head, trying to avoid unpleasant images and, with a firm sep, she walked towards the door. It was the time to confront the Jedi again, to force him to understand that if he loved Anakin so much, the only chance he had was his help. Once Anakin was safe, Padmé could deal with the relationship between the two of them. But, when Padmé crossed the double doors, her shoes thumping on the floor and the tail of her dress dragging heavily, it wasn't Obi-Wan Kenobi who she found.

The man smiled widely at her and Padmé took a step back and covered her belly with both hands instinctively. With the first look, Padmé saw a man with attractive but hard features, aggressive expression and a smirk plastered on full lips. The long hair fell messily around his face, partially covering a couple of dark, wild eyes. With the second look, Padmé saw brown clothing and a lightsaber. But he didn't look like a Jedi, he looked more like a… pirate.

"Who are you?" asked the senator, forgetting her manners.

"Vos, Quinlan Vos," Quinlan jumped graciously and bowed slightly to the senator, "but you can call me Quin."

"What… how… what are you doing here?"

"Well, you see senator, the thing is my dear friend Obi had to leave momentarily, so I'm here to make sure your gracious person is safe," Padmé left her defensive pose and looked at Quinlan from head to toe a couple of times. "Yes, I know I'm incredibly attractive but, please, repress your primal urges."

"Are you a Jedi?" Padmé walked towards a sofa, pointedly ignoring Quinlan's comment. Taking one hand to her forehead, she sat between comfortable cushions and rested her body.

"Don't I look like one?" Quinlan looked to a distant point and took his hands to his hips in his most Jedi like posture.

"You look pretty ridiculous to me," Quinlan dropped his arms and pouted. The senator didn't even flinch when seeing his most irresistible gesture. Cold, cold woman.

"And here I thought you politicians were subtle."

"Some of us; where is Obi-Wan?" Quinlan crossed his arms over his chest and walked until he sat next to the senator. He raised both eyebrows and looked directly at her, looking for a trace of fear, sadness or worry under the metallic cold of her brown eyes; he didn't find it.

"Don't play dumb with me, senator, you know where he's gone and why he's gone," Quinlan looked forward, propping his feet on the table that faced the sofa. "I don't like begging, but I'm forced to ask you to repress from talking about the situation at hand to anybody. After all, everything will come out at its own time, and the last thing you and I need is to be interrogated by angry Council members, don't you think?"

"Of course, but don't patronize me, master Vos and please, keep your feet away from my table."

* * *

The man buried a hand between Anakin's hair and pulled hard, forcing Anakin to kneel uncomfortably, the Adam's apple of his exposed neck bobbing up and down when he swallowed hard.

"Are you conscious?" The man didn't look all that threatening, but he was tall and well built. His face was marked with a couple of black tattoos and his only eye shined enough to let Anakin ignore the scar that closed the other one. "I asked you a question boy," Anakin just held his gaze, trying to ignore the sudden painful tremor that went down his back.

The man pulled his hair and then let him drop to the floor. Anakin tried to sit, but his muscles weren't cooperating and his brain seemed to want to escape his head by banging his skull. He watched the man pace in front of him and when he felt a cold hand on his back, he tensed involuntarily.

"Relax kid, I have explicit orders about how far I can go," the man pressed his hand against a deep wound, making Anakin hiss.

Anakin closed his eyes tightly, trying to order the chaos that was his head. Then, the man's words seemed to find a meaning. Anakin opened up is mouth but, when he tried to force his voice out, a dry coughing stopped him, making him bend painfully. The man laughed behind him and, raising the palm he kept on his back, he hit him repeatedly, stopping the coughs but making a trail of blood slid from a recent wound. Anakin swore and repressed his tears.

"Orders?" he managed to articulate finally.

"Well, he has a voice," the man laughed again and, moving his hands away from Anakin, he lit a cigarette and took it to his mouth. "Well, this doesn't look so bad, but I'm worried about a couple of wounds. You see, I have to clean them, the last thing I want is you dying from an infection, yes? So tell me, if I untie you, will you stay still?"

"If you untie me," murmured Anakin, "if you untie me, I will punch you," the laugh of the stranger filled the place again, amused.

"If you punch me, there will be consequences."

"Fuck the consequences," the man took the cigarette between his fingers, his eyes still looking into the torn back.

"You've got guts kid, I'll give you that, but if you touch me, I'll put out my cigarette in one of those beautiful wounds on your back. You have any idea how painful that could be?" Anakin closed his eyes again; pressed his lips. "No, no you don't, and I bet you don't want to know, so be good for me, yes?"

Anakin stayed silent while the man untied the thick ropes that held his hands. He stopped every painful moan that his throat wanted to articulate with every touch of the ropes against the torn skin of his wrists and back, ignoring the warm blood that ran down his fingers. The ropes left his skin finally, and the man put them on the floor carelessly.

"Very good kid, now–" but before the man could say another thing, Anakin launched against him. He ignored every complain of his mistreated body and, with a fast movement, he made his fist meet the stranger's strong jaw, hearing the sound of cracked bones with satisfaction.

But before Anakin could do any other thing, the man was attacking back. Before his body fell to the floor, Anakin realized that the man was even bigger than he had thought. His body met the floor and the man held him with his own weight, a wild expression in his now bloody face.

Anakin was sure the man was saying something, but the painful stabs on his back didn't let him understand what he was articulating. He felt the punch against his face before he saw it and when it returned prepared for a second blow, Anakin had closed his eyes.

"I told you to stay still," barked the man stopping his movements. "Now tell me, how many marks do you think I can make on you before the cigarette is finished?"

Anakin open up his eyes abruptly when he felt the piercing burning on his shoulder, and this time he didn't repress a scream. The man moved the cigarette away from his skin and watched the wound for a few seconds, but when he went to make another one, Anakin's hand on his wrist stopped him.

"Stay still," but Anakin pressed the wrist harder, keeping the man's hand away from his body, instinct overpowering pain.

The man looked surprised now and, when he decided to do something, Anakin's second hand was against his neck, pressing.

"What the fu–" the hand around his neck stopped his speech, and the man watched with surprise in his eyes how the wounded young man pushed his body until he was the one above, now tightening his grip on his neck.

Anakin put a knee on his attacker's stomach and kept pressing. The man's hands clutched his while his face started changing color, mixing a scared white with a choked purple. Anakin tightened his grip. And he kept doing it until the strength left the body under his and the man's hands left his, making him clutch a lifeless body.

Anakin took both hands away from the man and, looking into the white eyes, the unnaturally parted lips, the still chest, he took one hand to his mouth, chocking back the sickening feeling that reached his stomach. He moved away, his hand still on his face, the other one holding his weight.

He coughed.

And then, before his brain could scream at him to run away, his body fell unconscious on the cold floor of the room.

* * *


	12. Rescue

**Xtine: **thank God youthink me writing revolting villians it's a good thing! I don't like them all that much, I prefer subtle ones, but you need to have someone doing the dirty job, right? And you are right! Johnny Depp ala Jack Sparrow could totally play Quinlan! What a beautiful sight that would be... Well, hope you like this! Thanks, as always, is a pleasure to have you reading this.

**Wyndmir: **well yes, I don't like torturing Anakin, but I do like Obi playing the big hero and saving him... /sigh/ Everyone seems to love Quinlan and that's so good, 'cause I adore him so much... glad you like! Thanks!

**marieken: **agh, no, I don't think I could cope with raping at the moment (not that it didn't cross my mind...), so yeah, I kept it at physical torture. And oh yeah, Padmé's a bitch, I don't think she can help it, then again her husband is in love with a guy... so yeah... Thanks so much!

**Jakesdream: **thanks! Glad you like this and hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

A/N: ok, after you read this, please answer this... is it just me, or this chapter is kind of... well, fucked up? Don't get me wrong, I actualy like it a lot, but just... just feel free to tell me anything.

Hugs

Monchy

* * *

Chapter XII: Rescue 

"Give me the song and I'll sing it like I mean it

Give me the words and I'll say them like I mean it

Cos you got my heart in a headlock

You stopped the blood and made my head soft

And god knows

You got me sewn…", _Sewn, _The feeling

_Sweaty limbs tangling together, flesh meeting flesh, moans and ragged breathings. A hand finding another one on an inexistent – perhaps invisible – floor, and fingers entwining, a smaller palm fitting perfectly in a bigger one, skin caressing. Lips searching, desperate, stealing short encounters, fortuitous and continuous, asking for more, breathing a not owned air, biting soft skin, reddening, searching again, finding each other. Hips against hips, rolling softly and uncontrolled, loosing their rhythm before finding it and meeting in uncomfortable but pleasurable positions, desperate but intimate. And that voice, deep, ragged, consuming._

_Obi-Wan_

_Obi-Wan._

_Obi-Wan._

_A beg and an order at the same time. Faster or perhaps slower; make the torture shorter, make it longer please. Tensed muscles, sweat caressing skin with every thrust, hair sticking to tired foreheads, scents mixing, open eyes. Light eyes against light eyes, a passionate duel filled with tenderness, dilated pupils speaking of something deeper. And his own voice, strange, fugitive, lost._

_Anakin._

_Anakin._

_Anakin._

_And then, suddenly, a second shorter than a heartbeat and skin getting cold, moans turning off, pain, fear… panic. Anakin. Oh, Anakin. Rigid limbs, still, frozen lips, white skin, almost purple... Terror. Anakin… Anakin! And a low voice, hurt, choked, dead._

_Why didn't you save me?_

_Why did you let me die?_

_Why, why, why?_

_Why didn't you come before?_

_Useless tears, fury, pain, pain, pain, pain, painpainpainpainpainpainpain… Anakin, oh Anakin._

_Why?_

_Why?_

_-o-_

It had been Quinlan who had woken him up from his trance, shaking his shoulders and forcing him to face his eyes, making him seethe reality that surrounded him – the balcony on senator Amidala's apartment – and getting him out of a trance filled with nightmares in which a lifeless body screamed at him for his regretful actions. Actions that, on the other hand, hadn't occurred, becauseAnakin was alive. He _had_ to be.

Since then, everything had been a colorful whirlwind of events, ones mixing with others and getting confused inside his mind, which could only think about finding Anakin. Since Quinlan's proposal to this very moment, Obi-Wan had floated through time, lost and tired. Quinlan had looked at him with surprised eyes when he hadn't complaint about his idea; _Force_, he himself had been surprised, but he was starting to understand that Anakin made him act in a way he would have never thought he would. Now, he was going to take said young man from wherever he was.

Surprisingly enough, finding Anakin had been pretty easy. All Obi-Wan had had to do had been following the thread that seemed to join them and _voilá. _He had thought it would be difficult, painful even, to try and follow such an unstable bond, but he had found a clear way once he had managed to center and calm his primal instincts, those that yelled at him to cut heads until he found Anakin. Obi-Wan didn't even know he had such instincts.

Obi-Wan looked up to the luminous sign that announced the name of the bar, sighing unconsciously. If Anakin had left voluntarily without a word and was just having a drink Obi-Wan was going to scream at him until he was out of breath, and then he was going to hug him until Anakin was out of breath. Secretly, he hoped that was the case; realistically, he knew Anakin was in pain.

He entered the place with firm steps, getting lost inside the multi-species crowd that entered and left the place in groups, couples or alone, flinching when the sound of what nowadays youngsters called music reached his ears. He shook his head, trying his best to ignore the incessant bom-bom-bom that made the speakers vibrate and took his steps to the barstool. He knew he wouldn't find Anakin there, as a matter of fact, he knew he would find him behind the red curtain that seemed to want to drag attention from a hidden corner of the place, but he had to go unnoticed.

"What can I do for you, pal?" the bartender was human, but that seemed to be a rarity in the place, and he offered Obi-Wan a wide smile, watching him with no subtlety. Obi-Wan made sure he closed his robe and kept his saber out of sight.

"Whisky, please," the bartender nodded, and Obi-Wan went through the place with his eyes.

The truth was the place was far less vulgar than Obi-Wan had expected, it could even be said that it had a certain class. The clients, though, seemed to be the worst part of every species, making him wonder what did this place exactlyoffer to drag them there.

He nodded when the bartender served his drink, but before he could go to attend someone else, he stopped him by raising his arm slightly.

"Anything else I can do for you?" Obi-Wan half closed his eyes, drew a half smile, held the glass with a firm hand, got inside his part.

"Actually, I was looking for some… entertainment," the man looked at him up and down, a smile between his lips and eyes sparkling with mischief. Obi-Wan held his gaze, moving the glass slightly and joining the sound of ice clicking glass to that of the music.

"The red curtain," whispered the man finally, pointing at the place with his head. Obi-Wan just stared at him. "Serve yourself."

Obi-Wan nodded again, raising his glass and taking it to his lips, watching the man fade away while the bitter liquid burnt his throat. Avoiding an unpleasant gesture – he had never liked whisky, hepreferred fruity liqueurs, but apparently, those were for chicks – left the glass on the barstool and stood up, walking towards the place. He walked slowly but firmly, feeling more himself than he had felt in weeks. This was what he did, accomplish missions, finding an objective, planning steps, watching carefully, saving lives. And that he would do.

Obi-Wan wrinkled his features when he went through the red curtain; even knowing what he was going to find, he couldn't stand places like that one. The selling of bodies was a common business in Coruscant's suburbs, and it was hard to stop it with the quantity of young people willing to do it for a price that would vary according to the client's tastes. Open rooms offered him the sight or couples, threesomes – or more, how to know with so many twined limbs? – moaning above the sound of their own flesh meeting; the least modest ones, or perhaps the poorer ones, used walls and floor as support, ignoring the few who were alone, watching them or going through the long hallway, avoiding them as if they were in an obstacle race. Obi-Wan found himself wondering if what he wasn't allowed to live was this vulgarity, if a love act could actually be something else. Certainly, the vivid dreams that included Anakin as a lead, hadn't felt a bit like this.

"Want to have a nice time, honey?" a thin fingered hand leaned on his shoulder, pressing enough to be inviting, but not possessive or commanding. Obi-Wan looked at her owner, a girl who couldn't be older than fifteen, although she hid that fact with lots of shiny make up and a fake blonde wig. Any case, Obi-Wan was sure clients didn't even look at her face, seeing as she seemed to be quite comfortable wearing nothing but a leather bikini and a pair of black stilettos.

"No, thank y–" Obi-Wan stopped his words before rejecting the girl, changing his slightly disgusted expression with a smile. "Actually," he started, "I was looking for something different," he added a wink, getting the wanted reaction: the girl took her hand away from him and looked at him from head to toe, frowning softly.

"Yes, the handsome ones always are," the girl crossed her arms over her chest, sounding infuriated. "The second door to your right."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan bowed his head slightly, getting away from the girl and doing his best to ignore his surroundings.

"Sweetheart," Obi-Wan turned around when he heard the girl's voice right next to his ear, "if you ever change your mind…" Obi-Wan smiled, looked into her eyes.

"You'll be the first one to know," that seemed to make her happy, and Obi-Wan kept walking.

Going through the door, Obi-Wan knew he was getting closer to his objective. Surprisingly enough, this second place seemed to be more appreciative of the term privacy, since even when Obi-Wan could hear moans, grunts and screaming, nothing was offered to his eyes. It was probably due to the fact that there were few who were willing to be seen paying for a prostitute when this one was male. There were few men willing to stain their virility publicly, but of course, things were different behind closed doors.

Obi-Wan allowed himself to sigh and, seconds later, a young man comfortably clad in tight pants and nothing else, offered him a wide smile.

"What can I offer you?" Obi-Wan bit his lip, unsure of how to put this. After all, even when this place existed to make men enjoy young male bodies, Obi-Wan knew they were all there willingly and for money, so Anakin would not be there. He would have to go through a third door, one that would lead him to a place he didn't want to think about.

"You see, I–"

"I have something for everyone; top, bottom…" Obi-Wan tried not to be surprised by how long the young man's list was, trying to leave his babbling outside his mind so he could search this place. He didn't take long finding what he was looking for: a black door that seemed to stand out, calling to him. He was getting closer, "… we even have some untouched ones, if you know what I mean and–"

"What's behind that door?" the boy stopped his speech abruptly, digging brown eyes in Obi-Wan's figure. He crossed his arms over his chest andtook a step back, humming softly.

"I don't know, what's behind that door?"

"Maybe what I am looking for," the boy stared at him, arched an eyebrow, half closed his eyes.

"I wouldn't have thought you were the type… then again, there might not be a type," the man looked away, leaned back. "That's out of my league but if that's what you want, you'll find someone to attend you behind the door, of course."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan lowered his head and, before he could notice it, the young man had disappeared, probably to a room in which he could control the place properly.

Obi-Wan reached the next door he was supposed to cross and, with a sigh, he leaned one hand on it. He knew what he was going to find, and he had to fight against the nausea that it produced him. Places like this one had become a fashion of sorts some years ago, when he was still a padawan to Qui-Gon. In his first mission without his master, it had been a place like this what he had visited. Qui-Gon was in the Outer Rim, and Obi-Wan had gone reticently to meet the Council and receive the assignment. The idea of going through something like this had given him an unpleasant feeling in his stomach and, on top of that, he had been assigned as a partner the last person he had wanted as such.

Quinlan Vos had won himself a questionable reputation since the first new of his apparition. From his first years being trained in his home planet, going through his welcoming at the Temple and getting to the moment in which he was knighted, Quinlan had been in everyone mouths, making himself famous with his scandalous, crazy adventures. Some had looked at him with admiration, others, with premature trial in their eyes. Obi-Wan, of course, had belonged to the second group, considering the man a disgrace to the Order. When they had shipped into that mission, after looking deep into the reality of human cruelty, Obi-Wan had been thankful for Quinlan's presence. Torture; people who paid to torture. Obi-Wan had seen bodies deformed after hours of terror consumed in their flesh, mutilated limbs, blood, vomit and semen and, after keeping his composure enough time to save a few lives, it had been Quinlan who had stayed all night with him while he puked his guts out.

It had been that night when he had understood that not all people can be judged under the same light, and when he had seen that there was a lot more behind Quinlan's playful smirk. Respect had turned into loyal friendship, and Obi-Wan had managed to see that Quinlan was perhaps one of the best men the Order had, but that he couldn't be expected to follow the rules.

Now, years later, believing that places like this no longer existed, he asked himself if he would be strong enough to face this alone.

He pushed the door with a firm hand and, with no more doubts, he entered the room. He found himself in what looked like a well illuminated office, complete with its table, chair and worker. He coughed.

"Oh well, hello," the man behind the desk looked at him. "What can I do for you?" Obi-Wan coughed again, bit his lip.

"I was looking for–"

"Yes, of course, I'll inform you of some offers. Allow me to–"

"Actually, I was looking for someone specific," the man looked up again, arching an eyebrow. "A young man w–"

"Oh, you don't need to say more, I know who you're talking about. Now let me see…" the man looked down, searched his papers and finally found a datapad buried under old leather books. "Yes, let's see, as for availability… ah, no problem, right now our most recommended doctor is with him, but you could–"

"Doctor?"

"Oh yes, an expert on keeping our products alive for as long as possible. Besides, this one in particular has some specifications that I will have to–"

"Specifications?" Obi-Wan pressed his lips tightly, completely unconscious of his firm grip on his lightsaber. Who was capable of referring to a person as 'product'? He was talking about Anakin… _his _Anakin, a young innocent man who…

"Yes, you'll see, the seller made some limits clear. There are certain… levels you can't reach," Obi-Wan half closed his eyes, fought an incoming nausea.

"Who was the seller exactly?" specifications, limits… who wanted to keep Anakin alive? Was this a casualty or had this been planned?

"That, I'm afraid, is confidential, sir," Obi-Wan just nodded, but his mind looked inside the one of the man in front of him, finding after a few seconds the image of the man who had handled the selling. No one he knew, but he made sure he kept his image inside his head to… to give him to justice, perhaps, to kill him, maybe.

"And what if I wanted to take him?"

"You would have to pay, although if you want to buy, I could offer you–"

"No, I…" Obi-Wan took a card out of one of his pockets, feeling sick, "just take what you need," the man shrugged, and Obi-Wan looked away.

He was buying Anakin, he was actually buying him. That was something he would never mention, something he would never uncover from a hidden hollow inside his memory, such a humiliating act – for both of them – that just the idea was repulsing.

_God, Anakin, I'm sorry._

Anakin didn't deserve this. He deserved happiness and freedom, all the world could offer him,and notthe misery produced by the scum of the planet.

"That will be it then, go through that door and then look for the third one to your left. If you don't wish the doctor to finish his job, just send him here. Thank you!" Obi-Wan looked at the door that separated him from a world of torture, and then at the man behind the desk once more. He wondered if he had ever entered the place, or if he just acted out of ignorance. Obi-Wan wanted to believe it was the second choice.

What welcomed him to the new place was a scream and his feet stepping on a pool of blood. Obi-Wan looked down and raised his now blood splattered boots, forcing himself to take a step forward. Screams, begs and chocked voices were heard behind closed doors that filled a long hallway, all of them closed, hiding their terror.

Doors, doors and more doors and _oh Force_, Obi-Wan had to take one hand to his mouth to fight the sickening feeling in his stomach. But he had to focus. It had been him who had convinced Qui-Gon that he just couldn't save the whole world, that he had to have priorities and leave some to save others. Now, he had broken his philosophy by looking for Anakin, but he couldn't fail him. He promised himself he would send someone here as soon as he contacted with the Order.

Third door to his left.

A moment shorter than a heartbeat, and Obi-Wan was falling on the floor on his knees. Two bodies were laying on the cold, dirty floor of the room; one of them, his back to the floor, unknown, the second one, face down, face covered by unruly curls and a back stained with dry blood. Obi-Wan took one hand to his face, looked away.

He closed his eyes tightly and searched for his center, something to clutch, but never found it, feeling the room spin around him. Not knowing how, his hands went to the unknown figure, resting over a pulse that didn't beat. Obi-Wan watched purple marks with the shape of fingers on the stranger's neck and covered them with his own hands, noticing they belonged to longer fingers, bigger palms. He found himself pressing with a firm hand, digging his fingers into flaccid, dead flesh and, when he became conscious again, he moved away abruptly, scared and furious.

"Force."

It was a trembling hand what took sweaty curls away from a familiar face, and it was the same hand the one who dared touching a soft skinned neck, allowing a pair of parted lips to produce a sigh when feeling a pulse under elegant fingers. Alive. Anakin was alive. Hurt, unconscious... _God_, Obi-Wan was scared looking at his back, covered in bloody lashes; those wounds wouldn't have hurt more if they had been marked on his own skin. But he was alive.

Obi-Wan clutched the unconscious body until he was holding him between his arms, leaning his forehead on Anakin's head and closing his eyes, completely unaware of a tear rolling down his cheek.

"Anakin, Anakin, Anakin…" how many times did he repeat his name was something he would never know, but there was a moment in which he stopped, realizing that the unconscious body didn't seem to be waking up.

Obi-Wan pressed his eyelids tightly together and focused, looking for an asleep Anakin between the folds of his mind, wanting to wake him up, to look into a pair of bright blue eyes.

_Blood, more black than red. Pain, humiliation and, far away, a light forcing him to continue._

Anakin.

_But it was so far away, and it hurt, God, it hurt, it stroked his chest, it blinded him but…_

Anakin.

_Light breaking darkness, relief between fear and terror. Reaching it... could he? Or would he reach his destiny just to fall down a precipice of void? To hear a laugh mocking him?_

Anakin.

_And that voice…_

Anakin.

Anakin.

Anakin.

A gasp and Anakin's eyes were opening.

Obi-Wan opened up his own eyes, facing blue, incredulous pools through half closed eyelids.

Anakin buried his face on Obi-Wan's neck, smelling his scent. He had to bite his lips not to ask if this was a dream, preferring to get lost in the smell that came from Obi-Wan, his earthy scent combining itself with sweat, allowing his nostrils to forget about the odor that had consumed the place.

"I thought you had forgotten about me," Obi-Wan found Anakin's eyes, surprised. He hadn't expected those to be the first words of a tired, hoarse voice, and much less imprinted with such a sad sincerity.

His eyes looked for something to clutch inside Anakin's, asking himself how much had he hurt him for him to think he wasn't going to be looking for him. Although if he had to be sincere, he had almost not done it. He took his hands to Anakin's face and caressed it slowly, sliding his fingers down warm cheeks. Fever, Anakin had a fever.

It was an impulse what made him lean forward, look for chapped, warm lips. Was there any other way to tell Anakin everything without muttering a word? Was there any other way for him to face his own feelings?

His lips caressed Anakin's softly, creating a space around them, a brief instant that was just about them joined by a soft touch, almost ethereal, letting go between melting shields and the most intimate caress, gifting them a moment that would be theirs forever, no matter what.

"Let's get you out of here… let's just get you out of here."

* * *


	13. Tonight

**Lincoln Six Echo: **oh yes, indeed they exist, and it _is_ sickening. But yes, Obi finally found Anakin, so everything's fine... for now. Thanks! Glad you like it!

**Phoenix Red Lion: **oh come on now, there's still a lot of fic to go and to wonder if Anakin stays in the light or not! Yes, Obi-Wan went to look for him, because he just had to! There was no way he was going to stay and do nothing while poor Ani got tortured. As for Quin, I think he's rather refreshing, what with everybody angsting so much... Anyway, glad you like it/hugs/

**Xtine: **ok, I'll take creepy instead of fucked up, it does sound better. Oh, yes, I know you like to see them safe, even when you like to hurt them sooo much. It's good to see them together and to have Obi throwing the bloody Code through the window and just going to rescue Ani. /hugs and kisses/ Thanks, love!

**Jakesdream: **glad it makes you want to read it, thanks!

**Wyndmir: **oh gosh, you make me blush! I'm so happy that you liked it, specially their reunion, because it was one hard part to write, but it just seems that you got exactly what I was aiming for. So yey! Thanks a lot/hugs/

**Marieken: **the fact that you read it more than once is the best compliment you could ever give me! Seriously, thanks so much/kisses/

**TM: **I know you're there, I know you are! So thanks for your support when I had my problems with this chapter, the muses you sent me helped a lot! Thanks and hugs and kisses!

Well, I had some problems with this chapter, I cursed and pulled my hair for days, ended up cursing in my lj but it ended up happening, _finally_. There was this part that was driving me nuts, because I just didn't seem to reach the mood I needed, but I wrote, I finally did! So yey for me!

Love you all!

Monchy

* * *

Chapter XIII: Tonight

"... Puede que hayas nacido en la cara buena del mundo.

Yo nací en la cara mala, llevo la marca

del lado oscuro.

Y no me sonrojo, si te digo

Que te quiero..." _Lado oscuro, _Jarabe de Palo

("... You might have been born in the good side of the world.

I was born in the bad one, I carry the mark

of the dark side.

And I don't blush, if I tell you

that I love you...")

Obi-Wan just wanted to sleep. Bury himself between covers and sleep. With Anakin. That sounded just about perfect, laying on a bed, covered by warm sheets and rest between Anakin's arms just for a little while, just enough time so he wouldn't have to face the consequences or Luminara's look, not exactly accusing, but certainly scary.

Some way or another, Obi-Wan had ended up dragging Anakin to the Order's hospital ward, which had proven a bad idea. Consequence: Luminara… and the Council, which he would have to face sooner than he would have wanted to. It was true that they hadn't been told of his little stunt, but he had no doubt they already knew and someone was already on his way, someone willing to look at him with disappointment in his eyes, someone who would say something close to 'I wouldn't have expected this from you'.

Because no one had. They would have expected such a rushed and irresponsible action from any other member of the Order, but not Obi-Wan, not perfect master Kenobi who had been the conscious of wild Qui-Gon Jinn, who had gotten himself a reputation and who had entered the Council working hard and constantly. They would have made an effort to understand _anyone's _motivations, but not those of the one they had considered their morality model.

And all Obi-Wan wanted to do was sleep, sleep, sleep…

"Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to force it out of you?" Obi-Wan sighed, taking his eyes to Luminara's penetrating blue gaze, which scrutinized him mercilessly. He wouldn't be able to lie to her, not to her.

"What do you want to know?" Luminara allowed herself a half smile and crossed her arms over her chest.

Luminara and Obi-Wan had kept a close relationship from the moment they had met. Obi-Wan admired her, and he had no problem admitting that. He admired her for her composure and for her eternal calm, but most of all for having the greatest common sense of the Order. No one was capable of hiding a thing from Luminara Unduli, much less himself, who was secretly hoping for an advice or for a simple everything will be alright.

"He is powerful in the Force," Obi-Wan whispered finally, looking at the white walls behind which Anakin rested.

It had been Luminara who had given Anakin the necessary treatment, letting her former apprentice Barris Offee take care of him once she had made sure there were no urgent damages. Despite his initial complaints, Anakin had accepted being put to sleep, even if it had been only after Barris had threatened him with drugging his water.

Luminara had also sent someone looking for senator Amidala after offering Obi-Wan an arched eyebrow when he had informed her that he had left Padmé with Quinlan. All the Order seemed to agree in the fact that Quinlan was a bad influence on Obi-Wan.

"I know that, Obi-Wan," Luminara nodded, resting against her seat's back and dropping her arms down her sides. "What I would like to know is exactly how you managed to form a bond with an untrained Force-user."

"I don't know," Obi-Wan shrugged, took his hands to his hair, "I was trying to help him to lift some shields and… I don't know how it happened and–stop looking at me like that! I'm telling you the truth."

"Have you tried to dissolve it?" Obi-Wan shook his head and lowered his eyes, almost as a kid discovered while sticking together a broken plate. He hadn't even _thought_ about dissolving the bond. "You should do that," Obi-Wan nodded, he sighed. At least he knew Luminara wouldn't judge him.

"Do you have any idea of what might have happened?"

"I would have to make some tests and… he doesn't know it, does he?" Obi-Wan shook his head again. "Try to dissolve it and if it's not possible come and see me, I will have to study it."

"And the Council?"

"They don't have to know a thing if the solution is immediate," Luminara fixated her bright eyes on him, and Obi-Wan half smiled, "but the first time you pass out, your head hurts or anything I want you here, am I being clear? A bond like this… I don't know how it might react. Although I don't know how to keep an eye on him."

"On Anakin?"

"You know the Council will remove you from the mission, and it's probable that the bond complains as soon as you're apart, but I guess that's going ahead of myself," Obi-Wan bit his lip, closed his eyes instinctively.

"This is a mess."

"You did what you thought was right, Obi-Wan, so don't punish yourself. Others will do that for you."

Sometimes, Obi-Wan didn't know whether to hate or to love Luminara.

* * *

Obi-Wan entered the room once Barris had given him permission with a kind smile. He closed the door behind him and shivered involuntarily after taking a few steps inside. The hospital ward had that effect on him, almost as if it wanted to remember him the times Qui-Gon had been there, himself or any other. Obi-Wan hated hospitals and healers, with their needles and that shadow behind their eyes that seemed to hide a promise of death in them. That was probably the reason that had made Luminara medicate him without his permission; it was easier than trying to convince him that healers were there to help.

_Ha! That's what they want us to believe._

Anakin was asleep on the white covered bed, his chest against the mattress and his back covered in bacta patches. It was almost as if nothing had happened, as if everything had been a nightmare they had woken from with sweaty limbs, but that had dissipated into a better reality. But Anakin's wounds were real; so were Obi-Wan's fears.

He got closer to the bed with short and slow steps, watching how the deeper marks on Anakin's back took a clear shape under his eyes. It seemed unfair that someone so young had to carry so many painful scars, that he had such a long story written on his body. But life was not fair, and Obi-Wan knew that better than anybody.

An impulse and Obi-Wan's mouth was on Anakin's forehead. His hand, trembling slightly, held the rebel curls that insisted on covering the young face, and his wet lips caressed soft skin, almost as if stealing a forbidden moment. Then again, maybe that was what they were doing.

"Force, Anakin," Obi-Wan moved away from him, he sighed and then, a soft knocking surprised him.

Before he could react properly and answer the call, the door was already opening, letting in Luminara, followed closely by senator Amidala and Quinlan. Obi-Wan took a couple of steps back and, bringing his composure back in a second, he lowered his head.

"Senator."

"Obi-Wan," Padmé returned the gesture, walking quickly towards the bed an getting into Obi-Wan's space so she could lean closer to Anakin. A hand of thin fingers grasped Anakin's and a couple of brown, defying eyes bore into Luminara's blue ones. "What have you done? Why is he sleeping? Is he alright? I don't understand why you had to bring him here, Obi-Wan," a quick glance towards him and her eyes were back on the healer's, "we have great personal healers."

"Don't worry, senator," Obi-Wan closed his mouth when Luminara answered the senator herself, ignoring the defy in the politician's eyes. "He is fine and he will wake up in a few hours. A bed will be installed here so you can spend the night comfortably, senator."

"There's no need to–"

"It's the least we can do, senator," Padmé let her eyes linger into Luminara's a few more seconds and then she nodded, looking back at Anakin.

"If you don't mind, I would like to stay with my husband, alone."

Seconds later, Obi-Wan, Quinlan and Luminara were out of the room, the last one leaving the two men alone to attend some other business.

"That woman is scary," said Quinlan finally, "even more than Luminara," Obi-Wan laughed softly, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head.

"I thought they were going to tear their eyes out in there."

"Tell me about it; that senator has some guts for such a tiny woman," Quinlan shook his head, combed his unruly hair, "and I think she doesn't like me."

"That's the effect you usually have," Quinlan huffed, infuriated and close to pouting, and all Obi-Wan could do was laugh softly.

"It's good to see you smile, how are you, Obi-Wan?"

"I'm fine Quinlan, it's–"

"Master Kenobi," it was Mace Windu's voice what interrupted the conversation next to his imposing presence.

Obi-Wan turned his face towards him and master Yoda, who walked next to him with an unreadable expression between green eyes.

"Masters," Obi-Wan nodded and Quinlan imitated his gesture, leaning a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder for support. After all, Obi-Wan wasn't used to being lectured.

"We would like to speak to master Kenobi in private," Quinlan opened his mouth ready to protest, but one look from Mace's dark eyes was enough to make him desist from any form of subversion.

"Yes, I… I will be a–"

"Actually master Vos, would you let senator Amidala we wish to speak with her? This won't take more than a minute."

"Sure master Windu," with one last head movement, Quinlan walked away from the group.

"The Council has decided to remove you from this mission, master Kenobi. You must be aware of the reasons, so I won't bother both of us with an unnecessary lecture," started Mace, not looking into Obi-Wan's eyes. "As for your mission status and inside the Council, you will be summoned to a meeting in the next few days and be informed of the Council's decision. Until then, you must remain inside the Temple."

"Yes, master," Obi-Wan looked down, not searching for Mace's eye. Why do so when he knew there was embarrassment in them? Mace was hating this just as much as Obi-Wan was, and he would probably end up confessing it after coming to him with a bottle of bourbon. Mace always felt guilty for being authoritarian with him.

"Master Kenobi," Obi-Wan lowered his eyes to master Yoda, who was looking forward, almost as if this discussion had nothing to do with him.

Obi-Wan kneeled so he could face the master's look properly, and he received the green eyes with his blue ones. Yoda didn't say a word, but Obi-Wan didn't need them to understand what he was being told.

Deception.

For the first time in his life: deception.

And despite that and everything else, despite the deception of those who had trusted in him, Obi-Wan couldn't bring himself to feel a bit of regret. Sadness, a bit of fury and a sigh of pain, but not regret. Before looking for Anakin an even now he knew, with full certainty, that he would do it again, that he would risk it all to see Anakin's eyes shining with a smile. And Yoda knew.

A nod and Obi-Wan stood up again, a shadow tensing his muscles. That was the exact moment Quinlan chose to appear with the senator behind him, her eyes defying already.

"Masters," Padmé bowed slightly, and the three masters answered with the same gesture.

"Senator."

"Well, how may I help you?"

"The Council has decided to send you to Naboo until–"

"I'm not willing to–"

"Senator," Mace's tone of voice was enough to turn off her protest, "until now we have given you the freedom of taking some decisions, but having in mind the recent attempt against your life and this, that is something we can no longer allow.

"Excuse me master, but–"

"Senator, this is an order you must obey. If our investigations are correct, it's your vote what's causing this attacks, so you will leave the day after tomorrow, with your husband, of course, to Naboo, and a Jedi will join you for your protection. If when you get back nothing has happened, our protection will be retired, is that clear?" Padmé bit her tongue and fisted her hands, infuriated. Still, she offered the only answer that the situation allowed her.

"Yes, master."

"Good, you will stay here tonight, I presume."

"Yes, of course."

"Master Kenobi will be here, and we will send tomorrow the one who will accompany you to Naboo."

"Thank you master, I appreciate the time and efforts the Order is putting in my security."

"Now, if you excuse us, we must leave. Master Vos, join me, please."

* * *

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Quinlan sat on the nearestseat once he had entered Mace quarters, crossing his arms over his chest.

"This is your fault," whispered Mace, offering him a half furious, half exasperated look. Quinlan just pouted.

"I just offered Obi-Wan my humble help," Mace took a couple of steps toward him, proving that it was impossible to intimidate him. "You should have seen him Mace, look at him now! This is something else, something I don't think we can understand," Mace simply sighed this time, relaxing his features.

"This is a mess."

"Come on sweetheart, if you're right and this is nothing, Obi-Wan will forget the kid as soon as he leaves with his wife to Naboo, if not…"

"That's the part that worries me."

"You worry too much, pumpkin," Quinlan stood up with a jump, taking Mace's hand between his, "let Obi-Wan work this out and whoever you send to Naboo worry about the senator, ok?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually," Mace coughed softly, then looked into Quinlan's eyes.

"What? Oh, no! No, no, no, nonono, no! She hates me and, quite frankly, I find her rather scary."

"Those are the Council's orders, Quin."

"But pumpkin, I'm sure you can–"

"That's the Council decision."

"But I don't want to–"

"You will follow the Council's orders, master Vos!

"Uh," Quinlan grabbed Mace's cloak and pulled him close, keeping him in place by putting an arm around his waist, "I love it when you get rough on me."

"Can't you take anything seriously, Quin?"

"I take you very seriously, pudding."

"How can you do that calling me pudding?"

"Tie me to your bed and I'll call you master."

"Really, Quin…" Mace sighed, knowing he was trapped once again, "you'll be the death of me."

"Come on, baby, if I'm going to Naboo for a month to baby-sit the senator, you'll have to show me how much you're going to miss me. It's only fair."

* * *

Obi-Wan felt him before he entered the room, but he heard his steps soon and, when he looked up, Anakin was already standing next to him, eyes on Coruscant's dark sky and arms embracing himself, sheltering from the night's cold air. Obi-Wan lowered his eyes, looking for the best way to tell him that he should return to his hospital bed, next to which slept his pregnant wife, and not make it sound like a patronizing lecture. When he had discovered the best words, Anakin had already sat next to him, and the words died in his throat.

Obi-Wan shrugged, looked forward and stayed silent.

"I've killed a man," those were the first words that left Anakin's throat, and they forced Obi-Wan to look at him, to study his features. Anakin looked forward, calmed. "I've killed a man and I don't feel a bit of regret," Anakin looked at his own hands, scrutinized them, "I should feel… I should _feel._"

"You were defending yourself, right?" Anakin nodded softly. Obi-Wan, with a security he didn't feel, raised his hand to Anakin's chin and forced him look into his eyes. "You were defending yourself."

"Still… I had never felt so…"

_Satisfied._

_Superior._

_Powerful._

"It's confusing," whispered Anakin finally, and Obi-Wan let go of his chin, dropping his hand on his lap.

"Death is," said Obi-Wan, "it's something we learn to accept, but you'll never get used to it… maybe, maybe a man like that didn't deserve to live," Obi-Wan looked down, eyes on the floor.

"And did I deserve to judge him?" Obi-Wan chuckled bitterly. How many times had he asked himself that? Many had fallen between his hands, cruel people who had made other people's lives miserable, slavers, drug dealers, killers, rapists, one Sith even, but who had been him to judge but a man with another homicidal weapon?

"Death," he whispered finally, "death is not fair, not from the hands of a killer or the hands of a Jedi, but most of the time it is just a matter of survival."

"That doesn't change the fact that I've killed a man."

"No, that will never change," Obi-Wan looked at Anakin again, letting his hand put a rebel lock behind Anakin's ear, "but you're still alive."

And then, Anakin kissed him. Firstsoft pressure over his lips and, little by little, a tongue licking his breath, invading him, inside out and backwards, making his senses explode, implode, as if the simple contact with the skin of Anakin's lips could turn him upside down and leave him in the state of pure bliss he was in.

For an instant, Obi-Wan wished he could hate Anakin, hate him for being what he wasn't, for daring to do what he didn't, for fighting for _something else_ when he had stopped fighting years ago. But Obi-Wan was starting to understand that the line between love and hate was too thin, and that he was in the side in which all he could do was love Anakin in the most honest way.

Love, and intimacy. So that's what it felt like… as if Anakin was eating his heart from the inside.

Anakin clutched Obi-Wan's arms strongly when the Jedi's hands found a place inside his hair, drowning himself in Obi-Wan's lips, which seemed even warmer in the cold night breeze. The thing was, Obi-Wan wasn't really a good kisser, his kisses were inexpert and clumsy, guided solely by instinct, but they felt… they felt the way thing were supposed to feel; soft, warm, slightly desperate, hungry, shy, curious and so, _so_ good.

"Anakin…" the whisper was produced by skin to skin contact. Anakin had introduced Obi-Wan's hand under his shirt, letting the calloused fingers caress the small of his back, almost burning him.

"Just wanted you to touch me…"

And Obi-Wan couldn't say no. Not tonight. He had given his life to an Order and a Code he had believed in, and he was going to give this night, just this one, to Anakin and himself. There wouldn't be more than Anakin's lips above his, there would be no uncontrolled passion, caresses or moans, but just the intimate touch between their mouths, and their souls.

And tonight, just tonight, would always belong to them.

* * *


	14. Bitter pleasure, wonderful pain

**Lincoln Six Echo: **thanks a lot! Glad you're liking this!

**Xtine: **I'm falling in love with this Mace/Quin thing myself! They are just the cutest thing to write ever! Pudding... yeah, it really amuses me. Typical of you to grin beacuse Obi and Ani are making out next to were Paddy is sleeping, then again, who can blaim you? So yey that I broke through my writer's block and yey that you liked this! Much love and hugs!

**Phoenix: **yes, the Order does indeed have far too many expectations of Obi, so of course, now they're all dissapointed... poor thing.So glad that you like it! Thanks a lot!

**TM: **well, if you didn't see the problem, that probably means that I solved it! I was just having some issues with the whole kissing part of the ending and yeah... Oh yes, Quinlan is a bloody show-stealer, but I'm really truly in love with the guy, specially when I can have him referring to Mace as pudding. He cracks me up, and with all the angsting going on, it's great to have someone like him. Thanks a lot, love! hugs

Big, important chapter this one!

* * *

_Chapter XIV: Bitter pleasure, wonderful pain_

"… I like your pants around your feet

And I like the dirt that's on your knees

And I like the way you say please

While you're looking up at me

You're like my favorite damn disease…" _Figured you out, _Nickelback.

"Oh, great."

"I'm delighted to see you again, senator," Quinlan looked up into senator Amidala's eyes, who just gave him a victim-like look, "did you miss me? I must confess your company is incredibly pleasant, so my humble self feels very grateful to be able to be at your service and complete disposition for the next month."

"Save your sarcasm, master Vos."

"Sarcasm? Please, senator, I would never–"

"Please master Vos, I have a headache, so I would be very grateful if you just decided to consider all the possible meanings of the words silent as the grave." (1)

"Er, I–"

"Master Vos?" Quinlan stopped his speech and took his eyes towards the third person joining the conversation.

"Master Unduli!" he exclaimed, widening his smile, "what a pleasure to count with your presence."

"Thank you very much, master Vos," Luminara repressed herself from rolling her eyes, simply directing them towards the senator.

"If you excuse me senator, I would like to talk to master Vos in private."

"Will it take too long?" Padmé crossed her arms over her chest, repressing a sigh. How had she ended up surrounded by Jedis and following their orders?

"Just a few minutes, senator," assured Luminara. "Your husband is actually under the effect of sleeping pills, so he will be sent to your apartments this afternoon and with the proper escort, of course, is that alright?" Padmé nodded resigned. "Now, if you would be so kind as to accompany me, master Vos."

As soon as the door from Luminara's office closed behind her, Quinlan wrapped two strong arms around her, smiling widely.

"Thanks for getting me out of there, I really don't know what that girl has against me, I think I'm quite adorable."

"Of course you are, Quinlan," Luminara walked away, sitting on her chair and motioning for Quinlan to sit across from her.

"Uh, so this is serious, then?" asked the master, sitting and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I guess that being you, I can inform you of everything."

"A secret? I love secrets!"

"Quinlan, try to repress yourself for a few minutes and listen to me, alright?" Luminara sat back on her seat, waiting for the other master to answer.

"Sue, 'Nara," Luminara sighed, suddenly tired.

"Well, you see, inexplicably, Obi-Wan has managed to form a bond with the senator's husband."

"A bond?" Luminara nodded, watching Quinlan take his hand to his chin, "like a training bond?"

"I don't know, but the kid is going to Naboo and I don't have the time to find that out, so I want you to keep an eye on him. If he passes out, has headaches, anything that might seem strange, I want you to tell me."

"You think it might be dangerous?"

"I can only guess… The bond is unbalanced, so Obi-Wan must be carrying all its weight. He didn't tell me a thing, but you know he would cut his own arm to avoid seeing a healer," Quinlan nodded, smiling softly, "so I need you to watch the boy."

"Sure, 'Nara… but now I better go, before the senator decides she's tired of waiting and chops my head off… will you miss me?" Quinlan fluttered his eyelashes and Luminara chuckled softly.

"Force knows why I will."

* * *

Holidays on Naboo; didn't sound so bad. Quinlan could almost picture the huge green fields and the warm blue lagoons, days walking with no real destination after the senator. He would lay on the grass and scratch his belly calmly, making a good use of the senator's service and ordering some pina coladas and… Well, maybe his imagination was going a bit too far. He would probably spend a month listening to boring politics talks and looking at the senator's sweet face turn into a frowning one when looking at him. In other circumstances, he would have liked the woman.

"Who are you?" Quinlan turned around swiftly and, just as fast, he grasped the railing strongly.

"Wow, I had heard about you, but I never though that… damn it," Quinlan blinked a couple of times, opened his eyes hugely and the closed them, letting his shields fall into place to avoid the blow of the Force that the second person in the room produced.

"Who are you?" Quinlan looked up again, staring intently at the young man. Subtlety had never been one of his treats.

"Quinlan Vos at your service," Quinlan focused on the pair of blue eyes that faced his; defying, he thought. "You must be Anakin," Anakin nodded, taking a couple of steps toward the warrior looking character.

"Are you a Jedi?" Quinlan nodded, smiling. He was starting to like the kid already. "So Obi-Wan–"

"I'm very sorry to say he has been retired from this mission," Quinlan shrugged, leaning both elbows on the railing then. Anakin looked at him, a hint of distrust in his features. "You see, when the Council says take care of the senator, they don't mean run to save the husband. Small misunderstandings, you know," Anakin frowned, crossed his arms over his chest.

"But we are leaving for Naboo tomorrow," Quinlan shrugged again, "and I… could I–" Anakin bit his lip and Quinlan half closed his eyes, studying him.

"Obi-Wan can't leave the Temple, and you can't go in."

"But I could–"

"Climb to his balcony like a Romeo to his Juliet? He lives in a place to tall for you to–ahh, Rapunzel, but Obi-Wan won't let his hair grow again," Anakin blinked: Rapunzel? This guy was nuts.

"I don't want to hurt him," said Anakin, looking at Quinlan with defy in his eyes.

"Then maybe you should let him go," Anakin half closed his eyes, took one step towards him. Quinlan smiled: the kid was passing his test.

"I will go to him, but I could use a little help," ahh, stubborn, brave (then again, he _had_ married Amidala), attractive, strong, innocent and free. He could see why Obi-Wan had fallen so fast for him.

"Well, there might be an entrance through the Temple Gardens…"

* * *

Obi-Wan's eyes followed the coin's path until it fell from the table and to the floor, producing an annoying metallic clink. He could stretch his arm towards it and pick it up, make it roll again even, but the idea itself seemed uncomfortable. Despite that, he contorted his body in a painful position and lifted the little object, putting it on the table.

He remembered that coin; he remembered the first time his eyes had looked at metallic money, and not a simple card. It had been in one of his first trips to the Outer Rim, and Qui-Gon had told him to keep it with a smile between his lips. It was one of the little personal things he kept, a small trinket that remembered him that, in some part of his robotic, rational, Jedi self, there was still a certain weakness for feelings.

He made the coin roll again, looked at it distractedly. Now Qui-Gon was gone, and all he had left was the coin, the coin and Anakin. A stupid memory and an incomprehensible, sudden love. Obi-Wan sighed. Falling in love with a boy he barely knew hadn't been one of his best ideas, that was clear. After all, he knew nothing of Anakin.

He knew he liked mechanics, so much that every time the word wire appeared in a conversation his eyes shined and a smile brightened his face. He could talk about it for hours, about ships and the best way of flying faster. Ah, velocity, Anakin adored velocity, and Obi-Wan knew it was because of the sense of freedom it gave him.

He knew Anakin had been a slave, a slave with a quite generous owner, but a slave. That was why he craved freedom, that was why he had so much ambition, that was why he wanted more, always more.

He knew Anakin had been tortured more times than someone his age could take. He had as many scars as he himself did, but his were old wound battles, while Anakin's were stories from dangerous adventures, filled with bastards capable of erasing that sparkle behind Anakin's eyes.

He knew Anakin's lips tasted of liquor and chocolate, a little bit intoxicating, a little bit addictive. He knew they were soft and full, and that every time they curved in a smile they screamed kiss me.

He knew there was something inside Anakin, something dark and indescribable that consumed him from the inside. 'I've killed a man', he had said, 'I should feel something'. But there was that something, that little mark that Obi-Wan had seen few times but that scared him so much.

He knew Anakin had turned his world upside down and that there was no way of bringing it back to its initial position, because they would hurt each other the next time they met. They would because Anakin would ask and Obi-Wan would say no, because Anakin would insist and Obi-Wan would run away, because Anakin would chase him and Obi-Wan would offer him as much as he could, because it wouldn't be enough.

* * *

Obi-Wan looked up when he heard what could be soft knocking on the door. Shaking his head, he ignored it as a product of his own tiredness and decided that, perhaps, it was the right moment to lie between the sheets of his bed and forget the world for a few precious hours. When he opened his eyes again, Anakin would be on his way to Naboo next to his wife and Quinlan, and he would be able to meditate and train and then, maybe, his world would start to incline again to normality.

When he made the first move to stand up, he heard the noise again. Intrigued, he walked towards the door, his most rational part wondering who the hell could be calling at this hour. Maybe he was just loosing it. A third knock and Obi-Wan was reaching through the Force.

Anakin.

Behind the door: Anakin. How the hell had he reached this place? Ohh: Quinlan.

Obi-Wan sighed, palming the door open and grabbing a surprised Anakin by the collar, forcing him to enter the room and closing the door behind him. Obi-Wan wished he was one of those easy tempered people so he could feel angry – no, furious – with Anakin, but all he managed to do was give him what Quinlan called his _lecture eyes._

"Ob–"

"What are you doing here?" he whispered, almost as if someone would hear them if he talked louder.

"I wanted to see you," Anakin shrugged, even when he knew that didn't justify his impromptu visit. "I wanted to–"

"You shouldn't be here."

"But… but I'm leaving! Tomorrow morning," Obi-Wan just nodded, taking one hand to his temple and rubbing it softly. This was not good… but he was just so happy Anakin was actually there. Definitely, _not_ good. "I… I just wanted to see you," Anakin tried to reach for Obi-Wan, but he took one step back.

"Anakin, no…" he sighed, not knowing exactly what to say.

"Obi-Wan…" and then, Anakin was kissing him, slow and wet and perfect, and Obi-Wan hated himself for having to move away. So he didn't. He didn't for a few seconds, allowing familiar lips to caress his, to beg silently for a spark of intimacy.

"I can't," he murmured after moving away, his hands against Anakin's chest and his eyes on the floor, "I can't."

"But last night you–"

"I've defied the Council, the Order, everything I know and respect and I've done it for you, is that not enough?" Obi-Wan separated completely from Anakin, taking a couple of steps back.

"So last night was a goodbye, then," Anakin fisted his hands, suddenly furious. He was so _naïve._

"It's better like this."

"Thanks a lot for your generosity Obi-Wan, but I don't need your pity."

"Anakin, it wasn't…" Obi-Wan reached for him, but this time it was Anakin who moved away, "it wasn't like that."

"I think–I think I'm leaving."

"Anakin, don't–"

"You know something? When I was there… the last one, the one I killed, he said there were orders, limits, so I guessed that was why none of them had touched me, raped me. I wished they had, all of them; at least that way I would know someone wanted me."

"I should hit you for saying something like that," and he had almost done it, he could even feel the itch on the back of his hands, tempting him to shut that mouth with a slap and a kiss.

"And why don't you?" defy in Anakin's voice, and Obi-Wan took a step back.

"Don't mock me."

"And why not? Think you deserve more than that from me?" Obi-Wan fisted his own hand, tempted, confuse. How could he want to strangle a neck and kiss a mouth with the same passion? "You were begging for someone to come and get you out of here, out of this four walls and this empty room!"

"Don't you judge me, don't think I need an arrogant kid to fuck me through the mattress so I can feel alive. You don't know who I am, and the last thing–"

Anakin's lips fell on Obi-Wan's hard, biting rather than kissing, hurting him. Obi-Wan leaned both hands against Anakin's chest in a useless attempt of moving him away, but Anakin wrapped both arms around him and pressed him against his body. Obi-Wan tried to resist, he fought, but his lips were answering Anakin's and his hands clutched him desperately; his knees felt weak.

Obi-Wan pushed once again against Anakin's chest, but he pressed him more, finding then a place between both of them with his hand and caressing Obi-Wan's body over his clothes. Anakin's hand entered his pants, quick and firm, surrounding Obi-Wan's erection with soft fingers. Obi-Wan whimpered as a cornered animal would and wished he was embarrassed, but now everything was about the hand caressing him and the lips hurting his. He felt tears on his lips, and he wondered if they were his or Anakin's.

Another whimper – more like a moan this time – and Anakin pushed him against the closest wall, moving his hand away from his cock and substituting it for hips that fitted against his perfectly, for an erection that pressed against his body over clothing that suddenly annoyed him.

And Anakin's lips, Anakin's lips were still on his, trapping him in a cruel fantasy, in a pleasurable pain, and Obi-Wan wanted to scream no, this should not be like this, not like this, but his hips moved with Anakin's, fast and desperate, and his hands clutched his shoulders, sometimes pushing, sometimes pulling, while traitorous tears slid down his cheeks.

Perhaps it was the lack of air or perhaps a sudden feeling of regret, but Anakin separated his lips from Obi-Wan's, keeping him steady against the wall with hips that wouldn't stop their movements. A look to Obi-Wan's teary eyes and, for the briefest of moments, the hurt, _weak_ expression in the light orbs brought a smile to Anakin's lips. To know that he could make this man, this powerful and perfect Jedi sink into an odd sense of weakness made him feel exhilarated. The idea of _power, _of _control_ was new, exciting, right in all the wrong ways.

"Anakin..." Obi-Wan knew he sounded like a wounded animal, but something in his tone seemed to bring Anakin back and, in a sudden, almost painful movement, he moved away, letting his body fall to the floor in front of Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan let his own body slid down the wall, spread legs and still hard member, eyes watching Anakin's destroyed figure.

I love you.

God, _I love you._

But…

"Why don't you go home, Anakin?" Anakin looked into his eyes, and Obi-Wan was once again the Jedi and he was once again the defenseless kid. He shook his head.

Anakin crawled until he reached Obi-Wan and, before the Jedi could complain, he sat between his spread legs, leaning his back against his chest. He leaned his head on one of Obi-Wan's shoulders and looked for his ear, caressing it with his breath when he spoke.

"I want you to look at me, I want you to…"

Anakin didn't say another word, he just took his own hand to his pants and wrapped it around his erection, looking for Obi-Wan's eyes. But Obi-Wan had buried his face between his curly hair, breathing his scent mixed with his sweat, caressing his cheek with his nose and with the most rebel locks of his hair.

"Obi-Wan..."

Obi-Wan allowed his hand to descend down Anakin's covered arm, joining the younger hand on his hard flesh and letting it slide to the rhythm Anakin marked. And he didn't know why, he didn't know what he was doing or what he wanted to do, he didn't know if he loved or hated Anakin, he didn't know if he should feel regret or just cry, so he just caressed Anakin until he exploded on both hands, his deep breathing the only sound in the room.

Hours or only seconds might have passed before Anakin stood up, but they wouldn't have changed the broken fantasies or the spilled tears. A coin and Anakin, that was all Obi-Wan had. Well, the coin was not such bad company, now was it?

"Is this it?" Anakin stopped before leaving the room when he heard Obi-Wan's voice, giving him his back and not letting him see his cold tears. "You say that you love me, and this is it?"

"You don't let me love you Obi-Wan… so all I can do is hurt you."

* * *


	15. Naboo y Quinlan Vos

Sorry guys for not answering your reviews personally, but we're changing phone companies and my Internet time is limited. I'm actually using theuni computers for this, which I really shouldn't do,because I'm supossed to be doing a Matlabpractice, and the teacher is going to kill me is he sees me... I really don't want to explain what I'm doing to him.

Love you all!

Monchy (misbehavingfor the fandom)

Warning: er... het? But just a little bit.

* * *

_Chapter XV: Naboo and Quinlan Vos _

"… I took my time, I hurried up

The choice was mine, I didn't think enough

I'm too depressed to go on, you'll be sorry when I'm gone…" _Adam's song_, Blink 182

He couldn't sleep. He _couldn't. _If he slept, Padmé died and then his hands closed around the neck of an unknown man, pressing with satisfaction, and loud crack filled his ears, left him deaf, sent him to a hysterical and uncontrolled laugh that attacked his lungs and didn't let him breath and… and sometimes there was him, Obi-Wan, all soft fingers and warm skin under his and… and…

Anakin turned on the bed once more, opening his eyes widely and allowing them to adjust to the darkness of the room. Next to him, Padmé's slow, controlled breathing helped him stay awake. He was tired and his head hurt, but he couldn't, he just _couldn't. _At least if he tortured himself while awake he could control it, he could scream at his mind to shut up for a while, just for a few seconds. Although his mind didn't seem to be listening, consumed as it was by a continuous palpitation he couldn't stop.

Anakin couldn't sleep because he dreamt, but he didn't want to stay awake because he kept thinking. It was an annoying circle he couldn't free himself from, so he tried to leave his mind blank, to allow ideas to float until they became a multicolor mass with no form or destiny, but then he remembered that it had been Obi-Wan who had said those words to him once and all his resolve died.

They had left for Naboo the day that had been announced, taking master Vos with them and leaving Obi-Wan and his denial behind. Anakin had seen Quinlan argue with Padmé, make her handmaidens blush and convince the captain to let him pilot the ship far too fast and doing some unnecessary acrobatics. The Jedi had talked to him, of this and that, he had told him fantastic stories and impossible adventures, he had talked about vehicles, wires, droids, races, Jedis, everything and nothing, but Anakin hadn't heard one single word. Now, a week later, he still wasn't listening. He sheltered in a place Padmé had given him years ago to use as a garage, playing around with a pod-racer he had being working on for years and, when the night fell, he went to a bar, he drank and allowed strangers to look him up and down and proposition him. He hadn't accepted once, yet.

After all, there was no one he had to be faithful to. He had a wife who didn't love him and a man who had rejected him in the vilest way possible. For a while, days, maybe weeks, Obi-Wan had seemed different. A kind smile and Anakin had been trapped. And Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan had let him dream with the what ifs just to break his heart once it had been in his hands, the same way he had broken that man's neck. He wondered if Obi-Wan had felt that same spark of satisfaction he had experienced when the man's flesh had gone flaccid under his hands.

Even now he could see it, the body shaking in his last moves, strong arms fighting against his, the face going white, the mouth open wide, the arched back and the neck's muscles tensing deliciously under his hands. Perhaps that body should have been Obi-Wan's, perhaps then he would have understood that Anakin was strong enough to beat him and then, then Anakin could kiss him and make him understand that he should love him. Anakin whimpered like a wounded animal would and hugged his own knees under the blankets.

Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he felt Obi-Wan's hands caressing his body, soft but strong, and his lips on his neck, his agitated breathing on his sweaty face, nails digging on the sensitive skin of his back and a hoarse voice repeating his name over and over again. Then he lifted his eyelids, just to realize that that had never happened and that he was alone, alone.

"That's enough," Padmé's voice made him open his eyes, just to regret it seconds later when the light of the room pierced his pupils. He groaned. "Would you stay still and stop making noise?" Anakin moved onto his back, covering his eyes with his hand and avoiding the accusing look he knew Padmé's eyes sported.

"I'm sorry."

"Well, that's the least th–" Anakin moved his hand away from his face and Padmé was forced to stop his speech about not letting sleep an important senator. Anakin look tired; no, not tired, but scarily old. "Are you alright?" The hand that caressed his hair surprised Anakin, but it was all he needed to throw himself to Padmé's lips.

He kissed her hard, biting her lips to ask for entrance and letting his tongue caress her mouth fast and urgent. He leaned one hand on the mattress for support and took the other one to a swollen breast, which he uncovered by tearing the bluish fabric of Padmé's nightgown. Padmé whimpered against his mouth, opening her eyes enormously, but Anakin got closer to her, moaning when small nails dig on his bare arms. Padmé pushed him softly but Anakin didn't move, descending his mouth down her thin, white throat, biting hard on her pulse point.

"Anakin, Anakin you're hurting me," Anakin wasn't listening, so Padmé grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled hard, forcing him to separate, "you're hurting me," she repeated.

"I… I…" Anakin, as if awakening from a nightmare, moved away, avoiding touching any part of her skin, "sorry… I'm sorry."

"It's ok, it's… slow, yes?" Padmé took his hand between hers and took it to her face, "you know how to," he kissed the center of his palm, but Anakin didn't let her continue and took his hand to his own chest.

"I… I can't."

"I'm your wife."

"That I know," he murmured while he got up from the bed, "I know."

"Really? You seem quite eager to forget it."

"Las time I checked you seemed quite eager yourself, darling."

"You wanted to fix it then."

"What's the point now?"

"Of course, now that you have–"

"No!" exclaimed Anakin, now close to the door, "I have no one."

* * *

"May I ask where are you going at this time of the night, senator?" Quinlan wasn't surprised when he saw the senator, wearing a nightgown that just _couldn't _be comfortable, leaving her room right after her husband had done the same in a much more impulsive manner.

"You can do it master Vos, but that won't guarantee you an answer."

"Come on senator, there's no reason to be like that," Quinlan stood up, cocking his head slightly to one side and watching Padmé, firm and almost indifferent.

"I'm going to have some tea, if you must know," Padmé crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.

"Allow me to join you."

"That won't be necessary, master Vos."

"Of course it is," assured Quinlan, nodding energetically and letting his wildest locks cover his face. Padmé thought he looked primitively dangerous, but she kept her arms crossed and her posture straight. "For your security, senator," Padmé huffed.

"Since subtlety doesn't seem to be your thing," Padmé scowled, ignoring the Jedi's grin, "I guess I will have to be blunt: I want to be alone."

"I promise to be quiet."

"Allow me to tell you, master Vos, that I find you increasingly annoying."

"Ohh, a direct insult," Quinlan took a step towards the senator and smiled, "it's better like that."

Padmé huffed once again, resigned. He turned on her heels and kept walking, willing to ignore Quinlan's presence as much as she could, even if that implied straightening invisible wrinkles from her clothes while she knew the Jedi was smirking next to her.

Th kitchen was a big place with tall ceilings and great windows, just like the rest of the rooms in the palace they were staying in. Quinlan found it pompous, almost as much as the elaborated dresses the queen and court people wore, including the make up and dresses that made them look as fragile dolls. Before the senator could do a thing, Quinlan grabbed the teapot betweenhands calloused by years of battles.

"Allow me," he murmured, preparing the tea with fast, unconscious moves borne out of custom. He had never been one for tea, but he had spent years watching both Obi-Wan and Mace preparing it with a sickening reverence.

"You don't have to d–"

"Senator, please," Padmé couldn't see his face, but she was sure the Jedi was grinning, "it's just tea," and finally, as she had learned to do when dealing with this character, Padmé resigned. An uncomfortable sound and the senator had sat on the little wooden table destined for the service's breakfast, hands on her belly and bored expression.

For a while, the only sound that filled the room was that of the tea being made, a thin line of smoke ascending to the fluorescents on the ceiling. Quinlan moved is head a little, watching the senator from the corner of his eye and between his rebel locks. The senator looked far too fragile for the kind of woman she was, and probably her pregnancy only heightened that impression. A face too sweet and eyes too light for such a character. Her face screamed that the woman was suffering from a broken heart, when Quinlan was sure that the only thing that was being hurt was her pride.

"Marital problems, senator?" asked Quinlan finally, just before the teapot announced the brew was ready. Padmé looked up at him and then shook her head.

"I don't think that's any of your business."

"Why not?" Quinlan stopped serving the tea to offer the senator a wide smile. "You need an impartial ear," Padmé snorted, closing her eyes unconsciously when the tea's scent reached her nose.

"Impartial? Allow me to doubt that," Quinlan smiled again before sitting in front of the woman with two cups of tea, looking then at his with little interest; he would have preferred a little of that excellent brandy Mace kept on his cupboard.

"At least in the most important part. It's not good to keep things for oneself, you know? Besides, there's no reason for you to hide the fact that your Anakin has no interest in staying in your bed," Padmé half closed her eyes and leaned back on her seat, studying the master's face. She had spent years drawing expressions in strange faces, discovering the truth behind the words in certain features, but Quinlan's face was the same, slightly innocent even. "I think… I think you're one of those women that deserve to be kissed by the right person and in the right way, and I believe you made a wrong choice… perhaps you both did."

"And who is the right person to kiss me? You, master Vos?" Padmé half smiled, avoiding the thread of thought that would irremediably take her to Dormé and her eyes closing forever between her own arms.

"Do you want me to make love to you, senator?"

"Well, you are a very attractive man, master Vos," Padmé corresponded the master's smile with her own and then leaned forward.

"So is your husband."

"I know that," Padmé leaned back again, extending her palm on the table and tapping unconsciously. "Would you do it if I said yes? Make love to me, I mean," Quinlan's expression changed momentarily, but returned quickly to the smile Padmé suspected was his best defense mechanism.

"I'm a faithful man."

"To your Order."

"Yes, I guess you could say that."

"Oh the Order, with its rules and Codes… I find it quite primitive," Padmé fisted her hand on the table, an involuntary defy in her brown eyes.

"You don't understand it," said Quinlan simply, shrugging.

"Of course," replied Padmé, sarcastic tone and arched eyebrow, "the Force and its mysteries. Seems little practical to me, having so much faith in something we can't see," this time it was Quinlan who arched an eyebrow and, without a word, he made the teapot fly to his hands. Padmé pressed her lips in a thin line, knowing before looking at him that Quinlan was smirking. "Yes of course, I know of the prodigies of the Force and the power of the Jedi Order, but what's the point of so many inhuman rules? They don't do any good, just look at Obi-Wan! So… repressed."

"Please senator, feel free to insult me, but let's leave Obi-Wan out of this, yes?"

"He has a lot of faithful peers, doesn't he?"

"He's one of the few good people left in the world," the senator rolled her eyes, and then looked back at the master.

"You sound in love, master."

"I was once."

"Ha!" exclaimed Padmé, hitting the table softly. "If you had seduced him my husband would be alright now."

"Is he not alright?"

"You know what I mean."

"Come on, senator," Quinlan leaned forward, as if he was about to share a secret, "you've seen it. When they are in the same room, that _something_ that lingers in the air between them."

"And that's why I should give them my blessing?" Quinlan shrugged and Padmé took advantage of the silence to stand up slowly, rejecting the supporting arm the master offered her.

"The thing is," the senator's eyes went back to the Jedi, now standing next to her, "that your opinion is the only one that doesn't matter here, and that's what's killing you, am I right? You know perfectly well that if Anakin hasn't cheated on you yet is because Obi-Wan has said no."

"How dare y–"

"Relax senator, why don't you look for a lover and let the kid think with no pressure?"

"He is my husband," replied Padmé.

"And that's the problem, isn't it? That he isn't just Anakin, but _your _husband," Padmé pressed her lips in a thin line, staying silent and trying to decide whether to reply or to walk away. "If you want an advice, senator," continued Quinlan before she made up her mind, "find yourself a good lover who pleases you… you're a busy, pregnant woman, you must be terribly horny," Padmé chuckled softly, looking into the Jedi's eyes.

"Do you really think a man will solve this?"

"Perhaps a woman."

"What makes you think I would be happy having an affair with someone I don't care for in the least?"

If someone had asked Padmé seconds later when had the master's mouth descended on hers, she wouldn't have had an answer. The senator raised her hands, willing to push the strong body away from hers, but she found her fingers entwining in thick fabric and her lips pressing stronger against the rough ones that caressed hers carelessly. A few more seconds and she was looking into brown eyes and then, her hand moved automatically to the Jedi's face, being stopped by a firm grip on her wrist.

"Are you mocking me, master Vos?" she scowled with her eyes still on the man's.

"It hurts, doesn't it? Imagine for a second feeling mockery after mockery until your life is no more than a huge joke. I could understand you if your heart was broken, but I can't when all I see is hurt pride."

"Let go of me," Quinlan did, and Padmé caressed her reddened wrist with her other hand. "Why do you care so much anyway? What's in this for you?"

"Nothing, at least not for me," Quinlan shrugged and took a step back. "It's just… it's been far too long since Obi-Wan smiled in the way Anakin makes him smile."

"They will hurt each other, you know that. And there will be consequences."

"And aren't a few stolen moments of happiness worth a whole life of pain?"

"You're a romantic, master Vos."

"And you're a cynic, senator," Padmé smiled, nodded slightly.

"I better retire now. I hope from now own our relationship will be as cordial as possible, master Vos."

"Of course, senator, whatever you want."

* * *

It wasn't easy to find a depraved enough place in Naboo, where everyone seemed to be kind and have a great moral standard, but Anakin knew how to look for what he needed. The place wasn't too big, but it held enough people in to guarantee his anonymity. It was dark, dirty and it was terribly hot, a fact that was heightened by the mass of bodies moving with the rhythm of the too loud music; but they had good alcohol. There were also enough men looking at him for him to choose from all possible types.

Anakin chose a big a guy who had a threatening look. Long hair and strong jaw, dressed in black and holding a drink of something dark and probably strong. The man had been looking at him for quite a while now, and all Anakin had to do was trap his eyes with his own for a few seconds and walk to the fresher. He didn't look back; he knew he was being followed.

It was fast and uncomfortable. His face against the cold, dirty tiles of the wall and far too big hands freeing only the most necessary parts of his body. A groan, pain and an annoying sound of flesh against flesh, continuous and adorned with a tongue in his ear. And his own voice: _harder_. Because he couldn't feel it, it didn't matter how strong or painful it was, all he could feel were his own tears sliding down his face.

_Harder. _

Harder, faster, deeper, really painful, painful enough. Maybe, maybe that way he could pretend he wasn't crying for Obi-Wan.

* * *

Quinlan wanted to sleep. It wasn't a necessity, after all, he was a Jedi and he could take some tiredness, but he _wanted_ to sleep. It was his second favorite thing to do on a bed. Oh, a bed. He dreamed of white sheets, a soft mattress and strong arms around him. He missed Mace. Mace's bed, too.

Any case, what was the point of sleeping? The boy had ran away in the middle of the night, so he would be back any time and if Quinlan knew the slightest bit about him, he would be drunk. He himself had been there and he knew how it was. He owed Obi-Wan taking care of the kid, even when he seemed to be in a another world, far away from the surface they all walked on. He suspected his mood had a lot to do with Obi-Wan and his adherence to the Code.

Quinlan heard some noise and looked towards the pompous staircase that led to the room, discovering Anakin stumbling to imb them. What he had thought, then. With an exaggerated sigh, he stood up and went to him, holding him just in time to avoid his face from meeting with the floor.

"You don't have to–"

"Oh, I think I do," contradicted Quinlan, making an effort to hold him in a way they could both walk, "trust me, it's good to have someone who can take you to bed in this cases."

"No, I can't, I don't want to."

"You don't want to what?" Quinlan managed to climb the full staircase and continued dragging Anakin towards the door of what was hopefully a room with a big bed in it.

"Sleep, I can't, I–"

"Oh, you need to sleep, kiddo."

"No, I dream and my head hurts and I don't… I don't want to," Anakin looked up at Quinlan, a couple of tired, scared eyes and pouted. Oh, he knew that expression; it was his very own secret weapon.

"I'll handle your dreams," Quinlan offered him his best smile, pulling him up and changing his position again to open the door with his back, realizing only later that he could've used the Force. Anakin was a dead weight on his arms, but now he was clutching him strongly.

"He did that once," murmured Anakin against his chest, and Quinlan didn't stop to ask who _he_ was.

"Yes, that sounds like Obi-Wan," whispered Quinlan. "You know something, kid? I was in love with him once," Quinlan stopped to throw Anakin into the bed, but he ended up sitting with him once he realized the kid wasn't going to let him go. "He rejected me," he continued, "with reason and tact, and then he got drunk with me, but I think in your case things are a bit different, right?"

"I don't want to talk, I don't, I can't–not about him, I… can't, I–"

"It's easy to fall in love with Obi-Wan, don't you think? It's far too easy to love him, but alcohol and sex are not a solution for that, kiddo."

"Don't call me that."

"Can I call you cookie then?" and to his surprise, Anakin chuckled softly against his chest, letting go and looking up at him. "Wow, that's almost a smile," murmured Quinlan, "now sleep."

"I don't–"

"Sleep."

Anakin fell on the mattress with that simple order. Obi-Wan had probably been more subtle in his tactics, but Quinlan had preferred a strong Force blow to make the kid sleep. He supposed he should be glad Anakin had consumed enough alcohol for his mind not to offer any resistance.

"Well, I guess I better put you under the covers and all those things nice people do, right?"

With a sigh, Quinlan got rid of Anakin's boots and got him under the kilos of covers that the bed wore, looking at his job then. Well, things weren't as bad as he thought, after all. There was just the husband in love with the Jedi, the infuriated wife and the Jedi being too moral for his own good. Oh well, there was also the worried healer, the Council, the missing Sith Lord and his own secret lover. What a melodrama. If Mace called next day to say he was pregnant, Quinlan was going to have to start drinking seriously.

* * *

A/N: Oh my! What a hard chapter! The part with Quinlan and Padmé almost killed me, they're such strong characters that it's hard to have them together in the same room! Ah, well, turned out ok, even if Quinlan did just about anything he felt like doing (such a rebellious character, really).

And yes, I can't write het. I'm just used to having Anakin touching a firm chest, so breasts annoy me a little.

Anyhoo, see you kiddos!

Monchy


	16. Master, what is a kiss?

Oh, God! Chapter 16! I'm telling you, this fic is turning into a little monster. When I started _Somos..._, I thought I wasgoing to finish it in 10 or 12 chapters, and it ended up having 20. I started this one with 20 in my mind. Ha! It's laughing at me... Noway that's going to happen. But don't worry, I know what I'm doing (I hope so, at least.)

* * *

_Chapter XVI: Master, what is a kiss?_

_"Kiss: A caress or touch with the lips. A slight or gentle touch."_

Palpatine put both hands behind his back, and looked towards the city of Coruscant. It was raining, and thick black clouds covered the sky. A quite proper weather for what was coming, almost a prediction. He smiled slightly.

The truth was, he wasn't happy in the least; things weren't going the way they were supposed to go. Having the kid leave for Naboo with his little wife hadn't been part of his plan. He had been expecting an agitated romance in Coruscant, a romance in which he could be an understanding shoulder and a clever ear; but the Jedi Council was being coward. It was the only possible explanation for such a defensive behavior. A faithful Jedi had ignored a couple of rules and they had lost their nerves. Pathetic.

But with Anakin far away from him, things became a little bit more complicated. He didn't doubt the kid's capacity to torture himself, but he would have liked being close to watch him, to guide that darkness towards the right direction. He would have to wait. After all, he had been waiting for years, and he wasn't going to rush now that he was so close to his goal.

The fact that the Council had decided to send Quinlan Vos to take care of the senator had been a nice surprise, though. That man wasn't a good influence; Palpatine would have to thank the Council eventually.

In the mean time, he could always enjoy the slow but constant destruction of Kenobi. A curious creature that man, so easily beaten with a simple doubt on his precepts. The Negotiator was scared, afraid of his own feelings. And what could a frightened man do against a strong enemy? It was sad that a man with such potential could be condemned so fast. Oh, but he ought to keep and eye on him; he still had an important part in Anakin's fall.

Yes, he would have to wait.

Any case, he had his very own kidnap to plan.

* * *

_Anakin's skin was slightly dark, it was colored by the exposition to the sun for years and years, and it created an strangely erotic contrast with Obi-Wan's paler skin._

_"What are you looking at?"_

_"Your skin."_

_Anakin smiled, a wide, happy and alive smile that Obi-Wan had only seen a few times for real, and none of them with Anakin hiding under his sheets with him, like now. Because they had never lived this._

_Obi-Wan was surprised by his own knowledge of the falsity of the situation. Why was the Force showing him such vivid images, while making him know they weren't real? _

_He put one hand to Anakin's face and let a soft finger slid down his cheek and jaw, stopping on his neck, above a red mark that stood on his tanned skin. The knowledge that he had done it himself – or at least this unreal himself – came as strange._

_"What?" asked Anakin, smiling._

_"You look so real."_

_"I'm real." Obi-Wan smiled and trapped Anakin's face with his hands, feeling the taut skin under his own._

_"No, Anakin, you're not."_

Obi-Wan tried to separate his eyelids, but they insisted on staying together, as if he had been dreaming and didn't want to wake up. The reality – a meditation with no result or hope – was pretty different. He made a second effort and then, he felt his eyelashes separating slowly, uncomfortably, and forcing him to blink. One of them stayed lost on the corner of his left eye, but a simple move from his hand solved it. At least that was something he could solve.

He wanted to sigh, but he refrained from doing so. If he wanted to be himself again – and he _did_ want to – he had to fight against every gesture. The truth was, the time alone in the Temple seemed to be helping somewhat. His façade, his smile of perfect Council member, had returned after a few days of meditating in his favorite spot of the Gardens. It had been a while since he spent a long period of time in the Temple, and he liked telling himself that his actual situation was nice. Denial, after all, was far more easier than reality.

Obi-Wan felt trapped, but his partners looked happy with his progress. Why wouldn't they be? The Obi-Wan they knew, the trustworthy and calm Jedi, had returned. To a certain point, Obi-Wan was thankful for having back his self-control. He had always known that, no matter what was going on inside him, his exterior must be untouchable, reaching an annoying perfection. He suspected the loss of that security had been what had scared the Council about this whole business. He knew the Council only wanted him to act as he had always; his own internal duels were not important.

If he missed Anakin, if he was a confusing mix of passion, resentment and guiltiness, it wasn't something they couldn't care about.

He half smiled and threw his head back, touching the back of his rigid neck with his hand. One turn right, one turn left, and his muscles seemed to be loose enough. He shook his arms and relaxed his posture, considering what to do with the rest of his day. One look to Coruscant's sky was enough to let him know that it was too soon to retire. Besides, he didn't want to go to his bed. It was too big.

If he followed the routine he had had created for himself during the past few weeks, the next step would be a sparring session, long enough to force his brain not to dream that night. It was enough that his meditation was filled with _him_; he couldn't take nights filled with wet dreams and mornings filled with stained sheets. Yes, perhaps sparring would be a good idea. He had discovered it was one of the few activities that managed to make him forget, even if it was just for a few hours.

The truth was, he had expected the Council to send him to some mission to some lost planet. Perhaps a mission with no diplomacy needed, but a few battles. Obi-Wan wasn't a warrior by nature, and he knew that after every battle he was assaulted by the stench of death and spilled blood, but when he held his saber against an enemy, he was completely centered in survival. Kill to live. A simple and consuming principle. Nevertheless, the Council had decided that his punishment consisted on revoking his mission status until further notice – and he remembered Ki-Adi's lips quirking around the words, disgusted – adding to that loosening his right to vote on the Council. He assisted, and he could even voice his opinions, but was the purpose? A simple mistake, a weakness, and Obi-Wan had become a threaten to the Order's balance which, apparently, had become and organism that couldn't possibly forgive, much less forget. At least he had Mace.

So he was basically trapped inside the Temple, unless of course he wanted to visit Coruscant's streets; not a very tempting idea. He meditated, sparred and he was giving a galactic literature class the Council had suggested. He had always been good at it, and the teenagers he taught seemed to find him entertaining, or at least more entertaining than master Yoda. It had made him remember how Qui-Gon used to tell him that he would have made a good professor.

Lately, he had noticed, his mind went towards Qui-Gon more than usual. He wondered if it was remorse, or acceptation of _something_ his former master had wanted to teach him, and he hadn't wanted to learn.

Anakin.

Perhaps, if he had listened more, learned more, he would be able to understand what was happening. What was happening _to him_. Because it didn't matter how much he trained, meditated or explained, he was constantly followed by that invisible presence, by that dull ache that made his head repeat how much he missed Anakin.

He hated him, he resented him, he was afraid of him, and still, he looked for him between his sheets, as if he had been there some time. He felt strange when he looked for a presence that didn't belong in his life, when he reached for someone who had no place next to him. It was unconscious, and it stroked his heart as if a knot wasn't letting his blood reach it.

He missed him, yes, but he was afraid of repeating something like what had happened when they had last met. He had let go, he had gotten lost in the intoxicating mix of feelings that was Anakin, he had hated and loved at the same time, and with the same passion, he had wanted to kiss and to bite, and everything had ended up with tears and resentment. Resentment and pity towards himself, for his stupidity, his naivety, his lack of will and his vulnerability.

Anakin made him feel weak.

Anakin scared him. There was something, a tearing impulse that took control over Anakin's emotions, and turned them upside down and inside out and, as a consequence, Obi-Wan's, too. But still, he missed him.

And oh, how difficult was for Obi-Wan to have such contradictory feelings. Life was much more easier when everything was black and white. Rules and schedules to follow; a good side and a bad side; a diplomatic way and a weapon just in case. But Anakin was all gray shadows, and they kept swallowing Obi-Wan.

This time he did sigh. He couldn't, he _didn't want _to think about it anymore and, suddenly, he decided to spend a nice evening on the library. He had been reading a lot lately, too. He had spent his time revisiting old novels and reading those he had promised himself to read ages ago. The reading shushed the voices inside his head, or at least took him to nicer worlds.

He nodded at Jocasta Nu and, ignoring the curious looks he got, he sat at an empty table. The true nature of his confinement inside the Temple hadn't reached curious ears, but the fact that he wasn't there willingly had. Having a master such as himself spending so much time in the capital, just to have him teach, was certainly suspicious. But no one asked, ever.

"Excuse me, master." Obi-Wan looked up at the young padawan who bit his lip in front of him. "Would you mind me sitting here?"

"No, of course not." Obi-Wan smiled a little, hoping that this wasn't some kind of practical joke. But it didn't look like it. The young man just sat in front of him, and started studying.

"You're in my literature class, am I right?" asked Obi-Wan later, when he took the time to examine the kid.

"Yes, master." The young man nodded nervously, looking up at him. "I can't concentrate if there's too much people around," started to explain the boy. "This table is the least crowded one." Obi-Wan smiled, making sure the kid didn't feel threatened by his presence.

"What are you reading?" Obi-Wan pointed at a small book with white covers that was half hidden under the boy's datapad. It looked familiar, but he couldn't be sure.

"Oh, it's for children, but I used to read it when I was small." The young man blushed while offering the book at Obi-Wan, who smiled at him.

_Lexo Nu's incredible adventures. _Obi-Wan smiled slightly. He remembered that book; he had read it more times than he could remember. It was a little collection of short stories, and he remembered that Qui-Gon had laughed at him every time he had read it, despite the fact that he was far too old for such a reading.

_Lexo Nu was not brilliant, or strong. He didn't have much luck, or much money. What he did have, was a family to come back to._

Obi-Wan could almost recite the entire book by heart. Lexo Nu traveled, he had great adventures, but he always returned home, no matter what. He returned even after he fell in love.

_Lexo Nu opened his eyes hugely, holding his loved one's face._

"_Is that a kiss?"_

"_That is a kiss, Lexo Nu."_

Obi-Wan guessed he had stopped reading it when he had lost his own home to the hands of a Sith. He wondered briefly if Anakin had something – someone – to call home.

If Obi-Wan checked the few memories he had of Anakin, none of them included a true feeling of belonging. Perhaps that was why Anakin never looked truly happy. He remembered – and he had to admit he enjoyed submerging himself in the memory – a night Anakin hadn't been able to sleep (Obi-Wan had wondered a few times if Anakin ever slept at all.). He had asked Obi-Wan to teach him how to play chess, and the night had gone by, slow and easy, between pouts and happy exclamations, one in front of the other, with a board between them. Anakin had laughed, a soft and honest sound, and Obi-Wan would have given anything for a life filled with it.

_"You're cheating." Anakin insinuated a pout with his lower lip, and kept his eyes on the board._

_"Cheating?"_

_"Of course; I bet you're reading my mind or doing some Jedi trick." Obi-Wan chuckled. Anakin, on his part, fought against the smile that threatened to break between his lips._

_"I can't read your mind, Anakin."_

_"Then why do I keep loosing?"_

_"Because you can't play chess." Anakin crossed his arm over his chest, and looked at Obi-Wan, offended. "And you keep breaking the rules."_

_"Of course not!" Anakin shook his head, and pushed a pawn with his left hand._

_"See? You can't do that," pointed Obi-Wan._

_"Why not? Who invented the rules anyway? Why do we have to listen to that person?"_

_"Now you're just being purposefully annoying." Anakin laughed softly, leaning his head on his hand and studying Obi-Wan almost unconsciously._

_"Yes, maybe a little." He nodded. "Shall we start another one?"_

_"If you want to."_

_"I'm going to beat you this time."_

He loved him.

Obi-Wan already knew that, but it was the first time he _acknowledged_ it, and the thought left him breathless. He clutched the still open book with one firm hand, and the other one grabbed the edge of the table forcefully. He tried to calm down, breathe, but the air wasn't reaching him, and the room was spinning around him. He closed his eyes tightly and opened them again.

"Master Kenobi, are you ok?" But the voice was far way, too far away.

He tried to stand up, but the feeling of nausea made him sit again. He was trembling. He closed his eyes again, and this time he didn't open them.

* * *

"Try to grab this." Obi-Wan was pretty sure he knew that voice, but he couldn't quite place it. He blinked a couple of times, but the light didn't let him see anything. He heard a sigh next to him.

"Luminara?" He was surprised when he heard his own voice, low and hoarse. His mouth was dry and his throat burned. "What… what…"

"Open your eyes, you can now." Obi-Wan did as he was told, blinking one more time before his pupils adjusted to the bright phosphorescent light. Before asking where he was, his common sense provided him with an answer: the healer's wing.

"What–"

"Try to grab this."

"What?" Obi-Wan shook his head slightly, trying to focus. His eyes looked at the lightsaber Luminara was holding and, after she nodded, Obi-Wan reached for it. Or at least he tried to, because his hand kept going too far. He half closed his eyes and, finally, he forced his hand to reach their goal. He held the saber and glared at it.

Luminara sighed. "Muscular failure. Haven't you been feeling clumsy lately, while sparring?"

"Well, I had the impression Mace was letting me win, but–"

"You have headaches, right?" Luminara cut in. "You've probably even passed out once or twice." Luminara looked accusingly at him while crossing her arms over her chest, and Obi-Wan looked away. "Obi-Wan."

"Once. But I was only unconscious for a minute."

"You promised me you would keep me informed." Obi-Wan just shrugged. "Your head is doing weird things. The Force is creating shields all by itself, it's trying to protect you from the bond, which seems to be trying to make your brain explode. Hence, the clumsiness."

"And how-well, what can I–"

"I don't know, but I think getting you away from the kid wasn't a great idea."

"His name is Anakin," spat Obi-Wan.

"Yes, I know that." Luminara shook his head, leaving both hands on the bed Obi-Wan rested on. "Now I'm afraid of what might happen when you two meet again."

"What do you mean?"

"The bond is going to look for some equilibrium all by itself, and after so long apart, such a crash might be painful. Did you try to dissolve it?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "It's too chaotic."

"I need the both of you to find a solution. Obi-Wan, if the Council finds out…" Luminara sighed. "I don't know how much time I can protect you."

"Perhaps it's better if they know; I don't think I should be hiding something like this from the Council." Obi-Wan clutched the sheets that covered him, and closed his eyes. "I can't fail the Order like this."

"Give me some time, I want to study this. But I need you to come and see me."

"Lum–"

"No buts. Now you can leave, but I want to see you tomorrow, I want to look at this while you're conscious."

"What happened today exactly, anyway?" asked Obi-Wan suddenly.

"You passed out in the library. The poor boy that was with you almost passed out, too; I had to give him some tranquilizers."

"And you think it was because of–"

"No." Luminara shook his head. "I'm afraid you had a panic attack."

"A panic attack?"

"Yes, an anxiety attack… Something must have triggered it, but I guess only you know what." Obi-Wan bit his lip, nodding. "Obi-Wan…" Luminara sighed again, not knowing what to say. Finally, she touched Obi-Wan's face, caressing his cheek slowly.

"Don't worry about me, Luminara, I'm fine."

"No, Obi-Wan, you're not."

* * *

_Lexo Nu opened his eyes hugely, holding his loved one's face._

"_Is that a kiss?"_

"_That is a kiss, Lexo Nu."_

_-o-_

"_Master, what is a kiss?" Qui-Gon frowned, and then he crouched so he could look at his padawan in the eye._

"_Obi-Wan…?"_

"_A kiss, master, what's a kiss?" This time, Qui-Gon smiled and, leaning forward, pressed his lips to Obi-Wan's forehead._

"_That is a kiss, Obi-Wan."_

That had been his first kiss, the first of three before he met Anakin. Anakin had asked him if he had kissed someone before, and Obi-Wan had said no, because it was the truth. Obi-Wan had been kissed, he had been kissed three times.

The first time, it had been one from master to apprentice.

The second time, Obi-Wan had been the victim of a bet. Siri had brushed his lips with her own, behind his favorite tree of the Temple Gardens, and Obi-Wan had been scared, and had walked a few steps back, only to trip with his own feet, and fall flat on his ass on the soft grass. The few padawans who had been hiding behind a few bushes, had laughed about it for months.

The third time, Obi-Wan had rejected a love confession. Quinlan had kissed him, and he had done it with strength and passion and necessity. He had said I love you with no words, and Obi-Wan had clutched him and had kissed back with fear and clumsiness, because Quinlan loved him, and Obi-Wan needed him to be a part of his life. Quinlan had understood his no without words, and had left his kiss as a present.

Anakin had kissed him, with passion, with sadness, and with torn emotions, with tears in his blue eyes and desperation palpitating between sweated hands. And Obi-Wan had kissed back every time because he had wanted to, because he had needed to. And then he had given him one night, one night that had been just for them, and in which Obi-Wan had dared to gift him with his lips and nothing else.

Laying on his bed, looking at the ceiling, Obi-Wan understood what a kiss was. This time, he didn't have a panic attack, but a sincere craving.

* * *

A/N: I'm gussing here that chess is not really canon, but I just didn't know of any Star Wars board game so... call it artistic lisense? 


	17. A solution

**Xtine: **well, you've already read this chapter, but it's finally up here! Anyway, I'm so happy you're liking this! You know receiving reviews from you it's an honour (ugh, that sounds so formal...). But really, a review from an author you like it's always a privilege. And thanks for your support with thw whole evil review bussiness, you know I appreciate it. Luv you, .

**Lincoln Six Echo:** I'm glad you like this! Yes, the plot keeps thickening, doesn't it? And yes, the Council members are being assholes (let's face it, they usually are), and Palpatine is being evil (and we gotta love him for that; he's such a fun bad guy). Thanks a lot!

**Phoenix: **thanks! Well, yes, the Council is really acting out of fear, but the thing is Obi-Wan beleives in authority and duty, so I just don't see him rebeling against the Council, but rather feeling guilty for letting them down. But at least there's Mace, Luminara and Quinlan, right? Thank you so much!

**Lina: **thanks! I'm so glad you're enjoying this and... well, I know you've read this already, but at last it's up here.

Sorry for the delay, you guys, but was being annoying and not letting me upload.

* * *

_Chapter XVII: A solution _

_"Será tu voz _

_Será el licor _

_Serán las luces de esta habitación _

_Será el poder de una canción _

_Pero esta noche moriría por vos." Moriría por vos, _Amaral.

_("It might be your voice_

_It might be the liqueur _

_It might be the light in this room _

_It might be the power of a song _

_But tonight I would die for you") _

_The bed was soft under him, the light fabric of the sheets pooling around his naked body. Sitting on his lap, Anakin moved, slowly, torturously slow, and his hands clutched his arms roughly, his breath caressed his sweated neck, making a shiver run down his back with every uncomfortable thrust that buried him deeper inside Anakin's body. _

_  
Obi-Wan let his hand wander down Anakin's back, slowly, teasing the soft skin that was marred by rough scars. He gasped when Anakin leaned a little bit forward, forcing their chests to caress with every ascending movement from their ragged breathings. He dug his fingers in Anakin's hips, trying uselessly to make him move faster. He needed it; faster, harder, deeper, but Anakin insisted on moving slowly, languidly, almost distractedly. _

_  
Anakin kissed his neck with humid lips, and Obi-Wan's breathing became heavy and loud. He passed his second arm around Anakin's waist, bringing him even closer – if such a thing was possible – and Anakin chuckled against his neck. Despite that, Obi-Wan found himself smiling. _

_ "You're a tease," murmured Obi-Wan. _

_ Anakin went up his neck and to his ear with his lips, caressing but not kissing, too roughly for Obi-Wan not to notice, but too softly for it to be enough. There he left a kiss, and then he looked up, searching for Obi-Wan's eyes with his own. _

_  
Obi-Wan's eyes surveyed Anakin's face, awed. The curly hair was sticking to his forehead, the air went through parted, wet lips, reddened lips, a soft flush colored his cheeks, and the blue eyes were dilated, almost black. Obi-Wan thought that some cheesy background music was in order, because he wanted to stay in that moment forever. _

_  
A sweat drop slid down Anakin's neck, and Obi-Wan chased it with his tongue, until he kissed Anakin's chin, his cheek, his lips, his nose, an eyelid. _

_"Come here," whispered Anakin, trapping his face between his hands, and allowing one of them to reach his coppery hair, ruffling it while descending towards the back of his neck. _

_Anakin kissed him then, slow, caressing first lips against lips, asking for permission, and fusing then completely inside him. Their tongues were trapped between pairs of lips, and then, imperceptibly, the movement of his bodies became faster, forcing a couple of moans to vibrate between their mouths, which kept stealing each other's air until there was none left. _

_  
Anakin's hand trembled slightly between Obi-Wan's hair, and Obi-Wan, moving his own away from Anakin's hip, grabbed it and took it to his mouth, where he kissed each fingertip with swollen lips. Anakin caressed his face, breathing heavily, and slid his thighs faster over Obi-Wan's, making him go a little bit deeper, just a little bit. _

"I think that's enough."

Obi-Wan's eyes opened up brusquely. In front of him, Luminara offered him an indescribable look, but it took Obi-Wan a couple of seconds to recognize her face. He blinked, feeling a strong headache assault him; precisely the reason he was there.

"Did… did you see that?" he asked, once he had managed to realize where he was standing.

Luminara contorted her face, and moved her hands away from where they rested on Obi-Wan's temples, leaning backwards. Automatically, Obi-wan put his own hands to his rigid neck, but he didn't dare looking away from Luminara's bright eyes; or resting his rigid shoulders, either.

Luminara crossed her arms over chest. "And you see this kind of things when you meditate?"

Obi-Wan huffed slightly. He didn't know if he should thank Luminara for her professionalism, not mentioning the nature of what she had just seen. He knew something like this would happen if he decided to let her inside his mind, but his head had been oozing lately. He also had to admit that he trusted the healer blindly.

"Sometimes," he answered, finally. He suspected the heat he was feeling on his cheeks was due to a strong blushing, but he chose to ignore it. "I'm going to talk to the Council about this, Luminara. It might be better if I just stay away from everything for a while."

"And what do you think the Council is going to do? They'll send you to me, so don't do that, it's not convenient." Obi-Wan started to protest, but Luminara shut him up with a glare. "If you tell this to the Council, they will never trust you again completely."

"What do you propose, then?" Obi-Wan sighed heavily, putting his hands to his head. "I can't lie to the Council, I just can't do it anymore."

"I talked to Mace."

"What?" Obi-Wan looked up swiftly, and Luminara raised both hands defensively.

"Let me explain this to you." Obi-Wan shrugged. "You know Anakin came back to Coruscant yesterday, and that's why the bond has been annoying you this much. As far as I know, this bond is more like a soul bond than like a training bond, and that's why it's pulling you together."

"And does that have a solution?"

"The only thing that comes to mind is stabilizing it, and then dissolving it."

Obi-Wan nodded, resting his head on his hands. "And how do I do that?"

"With training." Both Luminara and Obi-Wan looked towards the place where the third voice came from.

"Mace." The master entered the room, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes serene.

"According to Luminara," continued Mace, "the bond is really nothing more than a thread, so if you train the kid, and strengthen the bond to a balanced point, you will be able to dissolve it, just like you would a common training bond."

"Train him?" Obi-Wan stood up, and put his hands behind his back, starting to pace."But he's too old and too strong… Besides, a proper training takes years."

"I don't want you to turn him into a Jedi, Obi-Wan," growled Mace. "I want you to order the chaos that boy's mind is with basic meditation techniques."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "This is absurd; and I don't think Anakin will be willing to this. Force! He doesn't know a thing about the bond."

"That's why I asked him to come here," murmured Luminara.

"What?"

"I sent Quinlan to fetch him. They will arrive soon."

"What? But wha–"

"Obi-Wan." Obi-Wan looked at Mace, waiting for him to talk. "We're going to let Luminara and Quinlan speak with the kid, and you and I are going to have a talk, in private."

"But Mace, don't y–"

"In private."

* * *

"Mace, this is mental." Those were the first words that left Obi-Wan's throat when the doors closed behind the other master's back.

"It's a solution."

"We shouldn't hide this from the Council."

Mace huffed, raising his arms unconsciously. "Why not?"

"Because we shouldn't, we can't. It's our duty."

"Forget about that." Mace leaned his back against a wall, visibly tired. "I did what I had to do when the kid was kidnapped, and now you see where we are."

"This is entirely my fault."

"Look, Obi-Wan, we're in the middle of a war. We don't know a thing about Grievous plans, Dooku is apparently missing and, oh yes, there's the Sith Lord plotting evil things some place hidden and unknown. Sincerely, I don't care if you shag half Coruscant; the Order can't afford to loose you, not now."

"I can't Mace, I…" Obi-Wan shook his head, rubbed his eyes with both hands, and tried to breathe slower. "I can't do this."

"You have to. It might be better, even. No one's going to care if you have an affair or not, as long as it's not dangerous for the Order."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "It's not that easy."

"It is, just t–"

"No, Mace, I… I am what I am, and there are things I just can't change."

"Even if you want to?"

"That's not the point."

"This is killing you, isn't it?"

Obi-Wan stayed silent, not bothering to nod. Mace knew, he knew what this was doing to him, what admitting Anakin in his life would do to him. And still, he also knew Obi-Wan couldn't say no to this.

"What's your plan?"

"Give him free access to your quarters, using rooms from the old wing… No one has to know that the kid is in the Temple."

"He won't like this."

Mace sighed. "Is really asking for easy people all that much?"

* * *

"This is really more than I can cope with," murmured Mace. After all, when Obi-Wan had said the kid wasn't going to like the idea, he hadn't expected him to throw a tantrum over evil people trying to get inside his head.

"Obi-Wan will talk him into this, pumpkin, don't torture yourself." Quinlan pulled from Mace's robe, until he was seating next to him on the couch.

"That kid has some serious issues," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. He hated when people got so melodramatic.

"You didn't even see the beginning of it. He's seen more than someone that age should have."

"You like him."

"I'm fond of him, yes." Mace huffed, and Quinlan smiled. "He needs help."

"He needs Obi-Wan to shag him."

"What a vocabulary, master."

Mace smiled slightly, incapable of staying serious. "Well, am I right or not?"

"Loving Obi-Wan can be very frustrating."

"And you're talking from experience, right?" This time it was Quinlan who huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry." Mace leaned towards Quinlan, and the other man allowed Mace to hug him.

"Obi-Wan loves him."

"Well, he's being insufferable." Quinlan sighed, leaning heavily against Mace.

"Forget about that and smooch me. After all, I've spent a month babysitting a really mean senator."

* * *

Anakin hit the wall hard, repressing a frustrated scream. What right did they have? What right did they have to play with his head? Damn Obi-Wan and his tricks, and his regretful eyes, asking him to let him poke around his head a little bit more. Damn his heart for skipping a beat when looking at him.

He had tried, he really had. He had tried killing the image of Obi-Wan that filled his every dream, he had drunk and fucked until physical pain – or perhaps pleasure – had numbed him, allowing him to forget, to forget just for a little while. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. He had acted like an idiot.

After all, there had been Obi-Wan, looking at him with those eyes, as if he cared. Would he ever forgive Obi-Wan? Would Obi-Wan forgive him?

He hit the wall again, harder.

"That doesn't seem to be very effective, the wall will always be harder than your fist. Perhaps you should try a pillow."

"What are you doing here?" Anakin gave Obi-Wan a furious look, while he took his reddened hand to his own chest.

"I want to talk to you."

"Did Padmé let you in?" Anakin crossed his arms over his chest. He was furious with himself, for wanting to kiss Obi-Wan so badly.

"She is not in." Obi-Wan buried his hands inside his pockets, and pressed the fabric between his fisted hands, not to loose his calm façade. He needed this to work.

"The answer is still no." Anakin turned around, showed him his back, and Obi-Wan relaxed his posture. "I won't let you people inside my head."

"It's not like that, it's–"

"I don't care!" Anakin faced him again, nervous and enraged. "I don't want... I just don't want to see you!"

"If what you want is to get rid of me, then you need to do this. For me."

"Why would I want to do something for you?"

Obi-Wan's answer was to shrug, and that only managed to make Anakin even more furious.

"Say something," growled Anakin. "God, Obi-Wan, tell me that you hate me and I'll do this for you, but stop looking at me with pity in your eyes, with… with indifference!"

"An–"

"No! I can hurt you, love you, kiss you, but you just stay there, pretending that nothing's happened, Obi-Wan. What do you want? What do you want?"

"I… I just want you to be all right."

"Ha! Is that what you tell yourself at night to sleep better?"

"Force, Anakin!" Obi-Wan raised his arms, finally loosing it. He had almost forgotten how frustrating Anakin could be. "You're being immature. And childish."

"No, I'm not!"´

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Am not!" To emphasize his point, Anakin stomped on the floor and crossed his arms over his chest, insinuating a pout with his lower lip.

"That just proved my point." Anakin growled.

And then, Obi-Wan did the least called for thing in the situation: he laughed. It was faint, low, a little shy, but it made Anakin look up, surprised, managing to make Obi-Wan's laugh a little louder. Force, but the situation was absurd! Anakin was there, looking at him with those puppy eyes, hurt, wounded, screaming at him because he had missed him. Obi-Wan knew, because he was feeling the exact same thing. Because he had tried to hate him, because he wanted this fight to feel _real_. It was hysterical.

Seconds later, Anakin was laughing with him.

* * *

Obi-Wan pressed a kiss to Anakin's forehead, a kiss from a master to an apprentice, from a father to a son, from a brother to a bother; and that would have to suffice.

If Obi-Wan had been strong enough, if he had known how to say no from the beginning, if he had had the will power to fulfill his duty, he would have saved them so many problems, and so much pain. But now he was sitting next to Anakin, and he felt no regret.

"So…" Anakin bit his lips, breaking the silence, "you won't mess with my head?"

"I promise."

Anakin nodded, and Obi-Wan found himself imitating the gesture. Once the hysteria had gone by, it had been quite easy to explain the situation to Anakin, and make him understand the necessity of breaking that which Obi-Wan had created involuntarily. Obi-Wan found himself smiling softly.

The perspective of spending so much time with Anakin had scared him, now he was liking the idea more and more. There was the necessity, that part of himself which screamed at him to forget about everything, to kiss those beautiful lips, to feel if Anakin's skin was as soft as it looked; but there was also the part that told him not to do it. He had to listen to that, not for him but for Anakin, to take care him, and erase that tenebrous shadow which hid behind Anakin's eyes, terrible and scary.

He had hurt Anakin, and now he had to take care of him.

"I brought you something," murmured Obi-Wan, then. He put his hand inside his pocket, and it came out holding a little book, which he gave to a curious Anakin.

_  
"Lexo Nu's incredible adventures," _read Anakin. "Isn't this a book for children or something?"

"Read it, you'll like it." Anakin nodded, and Obi-Wan sighed when he smiled. "Besides," he continued, "you are going to have children soon."

Anakin nodded heavily. "That's true."

"That didn't sound very happy."

"It's just..." Anakin doubted for a few seconds, and then he looked up, finding Obi-Wan's eyes with his own. "I'm a mess."

"Don't sa–"

"Obi-Wan, I'm scared."

Anakin leaned his head on Obi-Wan's shoulder, and Obi-Wan let his hand wonder down the shaky shoulders and the messy hair. Anakin had tried to hate him, he really had, but he couldn't. It was as if thousands of voices filled his head, and they only stayed silent when he was close to Obi-Wan. He couldn't hate him, but he wondered if loving him was such a good idea. But how to forget someone he wanted to blame for everything, but who kept forgiving him every mistake?

* * *


	18. Inside you

Hi! Hello! I just want to tell you that I'll be leaving tomorrow to London for three weeks, to do this English course, so I don't think I'll be updating anything in that period. But don't worry! The ideas are there and this will be written!

Monchy

* * *

_Chapter XVIII: Inside you _

_"It might not be the right time _

_I might not be the right one _

_But there's something about us I want to say _

_Cause there's something between us anyway…" Something about us, _Daft Punk.

The hairbrush fell noisily to the floor, bouncing a couple of times before staying still, its white ends pointing at the ceiling accusingly. If it had eyes, it would have glared at her. Still, Padmé left the object on the floor, thinking that someone would take care of picking it up eventually, and then she passed her hand through her hair, combing her curls with nervous fingers.

_It's training and-and-and… well, I don't know how to explain it, but… _

She pressed her lips tightly, furious, and ignored her own image in the mirror. Anakin hadn't even had the guts to tell her without stuttering, to explain to her the reason why his time was now going to be occupied by that Jedi. Training, that's what they called it now. But she didn't care, she didn't care a bit. If what Anakin wanted was to screw a man that was too good for him, and believe that what they shared was love, well, he had her blessing. As long as he went back to her bed at night, as long as he was _her_ husband, everything was just fine.

She offered the hairbrush a second glanced, cursing her big stomach and her clumsy movements. She was fat. All of her was. Her cheeks were red and rounded, her breasts fell heavy over an oversized belly, her fingers were deformed, and her thighs touched at every step she took trapped in the heavy fabric of pompous dresses. She would have put up with it just fine if the senate didn't insist on looking at her with patronizing eyes, as if it was a weakness, as if being a mother stopped her from being a politician.

She walked towards the window, watching the random lights that the city offered. Her hands traveled to her belly, where they rested calmly, leaving behind the slight tremor that had invaded them when Palpatine had looked at her _that_ way. She wondered how much he knew, what had Anakin told him. Stupid, capricious and ignorant kid.

She huffed, feeling encased. She would have to call someone to pick the damn hairbrush.

* * *

"Again?" whined Anakin, opening his eyes and insinuating a pout in his lower lip.

Obi-Wan, his face serious and his lips tight, nodded. "Again."

Anakin just sighed, resigned. Obi-Wan had proven being an exigent teacher in the last few weeks, and he knew no amount of pouting or whining was going to free him from this. Obi-Wan said that they were making some progress, that his mind was reacting favourably to this whole thing, but Anakin didn't feel any different. There was no extra presence in his mind, he didn't feel anything out of the ordinary, and he definitely couldn't make things fly, at least not willingly. What Obi-Wan _had _proven to him, though, was that extreme emotions, such as rage or necessity, could produce any kind of effect, from flying objects to spontaneous combustion. But Obi-Wan was going to show him how to avoid that, although not how to do them on purpose. When he had asked why, he had received a lecture on corruption and power.

Obi-Wan looked out the window, watching the sun start to set behind the tall buildings of Coruscant. "Perhaps you should go back."

"No!" exclaimed Anakin, leaning forward. "One more time."

Obi-Wan frowned, but decided to ignore the sudden reaction. After all, he had decided to stay away from Anakin's personal life, and that included the actual state of his relationship with the senator. If Anakin preferred to sit with him and meditate instead of going home to his wife, that was something Obi-Wan would simply accept.

"One more time, then," murmured Obi-Wan. "But focus this time."

Anakin nodded, and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, the first sensation that reached him was that of someone hammering his head, which was pretty ridiculous, really. He tried to touch his head, but the simple idea of moving hurt, so he chose to whimper softly, although it took his some time to identify the sound as his.

"Anakin? Anakin, are you alright?"

It didn't take him too long to identify the voice as Obi-Wan's, but just to be sure, he decided to open one eye, thinking that opening both at the same time might split his head in two. With just one eye, he identified Obi-Wan, big eyes looking worried and one hand strangely close to his face. It was then when Anakin felt the soft pressure on his nose, stopping the trail of blood that wanted to leave it.

_Oh, not again. _

It wasn't the first time one of them ended up coming out of a trance violently, bringing headaches, blood and general tiredness with it.

"Head hurts," he murmured finally, daring to open his second eye.

Obi-Wan nodded, moving the handkerchief he had been using on his nose away, and smiling shyly. "We should go to see Luminara."

"No, there's no need for that," said Anakin. "Look, I can–" he tried to sit up, but an access of nausea forced him to lie back down "—no, I can't."

"Let's wait until you're feeling better, and then we'll go to see Luminara."

Anakin didn't say a word, accepting the order. "Lie down with me for a little while," he said, after a brief pause.

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow, but then he shrugged and laid next to Anakin, letting their shoulders touch through layers and layers of clothes. Anakin smiled slightly, but Obi-Wan's eyes didn't see it, fixed as they were on the white ceiling.

The minutes stretched, slow and peaceful. Anakin's fingers found Obi-Wan's hand, and then entertained themselves tracing random patterns on his open palm, making Obi-Wan's eyes close with their hypnotic rhythm. If everything could be this simple…

"Obi-Wan." Obi-Wan opened his eyes when Anakin's voice ended the silence, looking at him. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Well... is just that, all that Code you follow and all those rules... I understand that you might be able to repress certain impulses, but… well, um, have you ever wanted something else? To share that… well, I've always thought about being old, you know? Really old, and laying next to someone in silence, someone who has shared my life, feeling a presence, because that's the only thing that gives meaning to my life. Have you ever wanted that?"

Obi-Wan stayed silent, looking into Anakin's bright eyes, which met his. Obi-Wan was starting to think that these sessions were giving Anakin a front seat to look at his soul. Obi-Wan shivered, but before something inside him forced him to react to Anakin's look, he stood up swiftly.

"We better go see Luminara."

* * *

Anakin entered the apartment slowly, stretching his numb shoulders. He had just spent an hour with Luminara Unduli playing with his head, just to get an explanation he hadn't understood about the violent reaction between Obi-Wan and himself. He was too tired to care, anyway. 

When Padmé saw him crossing the door, she stood up slowly from her desk and walked to their room, closing the door behind her. 

"Still not on speaking terms, I see!" Anakin yelled at the closed door, repressing a sigh. "I'm in the bathroom if you need me!"

Anakin slid inside the bathtub, sighing softly when his body touched the water. It was too hot, and he knew his most sensitive skin would redden, but he didn't worry about it, resting his head on the cold white marble and closing his eyes, dark lashes covering bright orbs.

He was tired, both mentally and physically, and the little energy he had left seemed to be absorbed by the water. Maybe it was because of the time he spent with Obi-Wan, those trainings which pushed, pulled and molded his head in ways he couldn't understand. It was strange, hypnotizing, the way in which he almost became another being, the way in which he seemed to disconnect from the tangible world.

The mysteries of the Force, all of them hiding behind Obi-Wan's ever-changing eyes.

He had stopped going to clubs, searching for physical pain to quiet his soul, and he had done so because Obi-Wan had become a consuming force. Entering his mind, playing around with this something he didn't understand, he had started to see the real Obi-Wan. The warrior and his soul, passion, desire, pain and hate, all that was hidden behind his formality. It made him hate Obi-Wan even more, and love him with the same amount of passion. It awakened too many contradictory feelings, attracting him even more, inexorably, consuming him, and letting him enjoy it.

When they sat facing each other, eyes closed and still body, Anakin felt all that was Obi-Wan. Their knees always touched slightly, almost imperceptibly, transmitting the heat of their bodiesthruogh the clothes that covered them. Obi-Wan's lips always parted, letting Anakin believe that his hot breath could reach him, making him sweat. And then there was just the two of them. Obi-Wan and Anakin, and the layer of desire vibrating between them. Primitive. Elemental. Beautiful.

His pupils, dilated, fought for a few seconds against the penetrating light in the room. He put his head under the water and emerged seconds later, sitting up and letting the water caress his face.

If only Obi-Wan cared, _truly_ cared…

* * *

Obi-Wan clutched the three empty glasses with a trembling hand, and walked towards the kitchen, fixing his eyes on his own feet, not to trip. He was a little bit tipsy. Mace and Quinlan had just left his quarters, leaving an empty bottle as a lonely memory of the evening. Obi-Wan reached the kitchen and left the glasses on the counter, wondering briefly at which point had Mace and Quinlan become such faithful friends. Maybe they were… but not, that was a stupid idea. He laughed a little, tripping with his own feet and clutching the counter to regain his balance. Oh, he was _plastered._

He decided to put some order the next day, and go to bed. Walking unstably, he reached his room, got rid of his clothes, managing somehow to leave them on a neat pile, and hid under the white sheets of his huge bed. He found himself wondering why the beds inside the Temple were so big, if the Jedi were not supposed to share them. He had always slept on one side, almost expecting someone to appear and fill the rest of it.

He thought of Anakin, and then he chuckled.

Anakin's presence in his life was something that seemed to plague all his thoughts now. Every day, he sat in front of him for hours, trying to find that something that would connect them completely. Until now, all he had managed to do had been getting lost in the chaos that was Anakin. And it scared him. There was something in Anakin, something he couldn't quite point at, and that made him shiver. It was a sensation that surrounded him, something dark an powerful that dominated Anakin's mind. But was that only Anakin's mind? Or was it also his soul, his heart? The idea that there was something he had to protect Anakin from became more clear with time, but what if Obi-Wan got lost trying?

There was the desire, after all. The desperate necessity that consumed him every day, that part of him that wanted, _needed_, to get lost inside Anakin. And it scared him.

* * *

_Obi-Wan opened his eyes and blinked, confused. He was in a room that was so brightly white that it hurt his eyes, forcing him to shield them with his hand. He closed his eyes tightly and rubbed his temples, trying to think. Where was he? How had he ended up here? And then, it all came back. He looked at his own hands for a while, probing that they weren't really his hands, or his eyes really his eyes, or his face really his face. _

_ He had been meditating next to Anakin, pushing a little bit more against the chaos that was his mind and, if he wasn't mistaken, he had entered… what? __His mind? His memory? __An specific memory? He couldn't be sure. _

_ Suddenly, he felt someone pulling from his sleeve and, looking up, he found a child that couldn't be older than ten, looking at him with big blue eyes. _

_"A… Anakin?" _

_The child nodded, smiling widely. _

_ "Where am I?" _

_ Anakin shrugged, but then he looked around him, making Obi-Wan notice the different doors that invaded the walls of the room. "I think it's called memory." _

_ Obi-Wan nodded, standing up and looking again at this little Anakin. "Did you bring me here?" _

_ The child shrugged again. "No, I don't think so." _

_ Obi-Wan put one hand to his chin, nodding unconsciously. It was possible that he had gone inside Anakin's memory, but what were the chances? Any case, now that he was there, he had to decide whether he should stay or not. He couldn't betray Anakin's trust, but he might just find an answer. _

_ The kid pulled from his sleeve again, and Obi-Wan looked down at him, smiling. _

_ "Can I show you something?" asked Anakin. _

_ "Yes, of course." _

_ Anakin clutched Obi-Wan's hand, and Obi-Wan let him guide him towards one of the doors, that opened when the kid pushed it softly. Obi-Wan took one step forward, and when he looked down, he saw his boot stepping on bright green grass. He looked forward, watching a huge field, where an Anakin younger than the one he knew talked to senator Amidala, who wore a light dress and laughed. _

_ "I like coming here," murmured the kid. "They're happy." _

_ "I see that." Obi-Wan nodded, smiling a little when the older Anakin pretended to fall just to provoke that worried look on Padmé's face. _

_ "Don't be sad. Come with me!" _

_ Obi-Wan let the boy pull him again, making him cross the field until it became a wide room: the living room inside the apartment Anakinshared with his wife actually. There was Anakin, and next to him, himself. They were both sitting on the floor, looking at Coruscant's dark sky silently. A soft wind went through the room and Anakin covered his arms with his hands, getting closer to the memory Obi-Wan imperceptibly, making him smile softly. _

_ "I come here sometimes, just to look at them," said his guide this time. "They're happy too… They don't talk much, but it's nice in here." _

_ Obi-Wan nodded, sighing. "Let's go back, yes?" _

_ The kid looked up. __"Ok." _

_They went back to the first room, and Obi-Wan sighed again. He pointed at a door, looking at Anakin with questioning eyes. _

_ "Can we go in there?" _

_ Anakin shook his head. "No, not there." _

_"Why not? __What's behind it?· _

_ Anakin trembled slightly, and Obi-Wan crouched next to him and put his hands on his shoulders. "Dreams." _

_ "Perhaps I – " _

_"No! __No, please." Anakin clutched his arm frantically. "They're scary, and I… I… please, don't – " _

_ "Ok, ok." _

_ Obi-Wan hugged the little body when he got closer to him, feeling strange while hugging this younger version of Anakin. He looked up again, staring at each door. _

_ "What about that one?" _

_ Anakin moved his face from where he had buried it in Obi-Wan's shoulder, and shook his head. "No, not there. Fear and… fury, and pain. Don't go in there." _

_ "Anakin…" Obi-Wan stared at him, holding the little face between his hands. "You have to let me go in." _

_ "No, you can't. Please, not in there. I don't want to remember, I don't want to." _

_ "But I must–" _

_ "No!" _

_ Obi-Wan stood up, trying to ignore the little hand pulling from his. "I'm sorry, Anakin, but I think that–" _

_ "You promised me." Obi-Wan looked at Anakin's figure, but he was no longer a child, but the adult he knew, looking at him with accusing and hurt eyes. "You promised me." _

_ "Anakin, let me in." _

_ "You promised me." _

_ "I want to help you, I just want to sav–" _

_ "No! You promised me." _

_ "Anakin, I'm going in." _

_"No, no! You won't. No... no, no, no, nonononononononono…" _

"Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan groaned softly, bringing his hand to the back of his head and opening his eyes.

"Obi-Wan!"

He groaned again, looking into Anakin's worried orbs. "You pushed me out," he murmured, rubbing the back of his head before sitting up.

Anakin's eyes changed automatically, showing fury this time. "I told you not to go in! You had promised me."

"But I–"

"The last thing I need is you in my head."

Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest, and stayed silent. He needed to think, to go back to the real world. He had to admit that this hadn't been as painful as it could have been, but his head was still blurry, and Anakin's yelling was not helping. How could he make him understand?

"Anakin." Anakin looked at him, and Obi-Wan was thankful for the chance to speak. "I just want to help you."

Anakin huffed, sitting back on his heels and crossing his arms over his chest. "No, you don't want to help me, you just want to feel good yourself. I don't want you to look at me with pity in your eyes, Obi-Wan."

"Oh, Anakin, why do you always think tha–"

"Oh, come on–"Anakin laughed, leaning forward "—now tell me that you care, that you're doing whatever it is you're doing for me."

"But I do care."

Anakin laughed again, leaning forward and into Obi-Wan's personal space. As soon as Obi-Wan learned his intentions, he moved back instinctively, avoiding the pair of lips that searched for his.

"No," he murmured.

"You see?"

Anakin leaned forward again, this time clutching his shoulders and shaking him slightly. His eyes hid ferocity, power, and a little bit of fear. He was out of control, but that only made Obi-Wan grab his arms, making him wish he could erase that feeling from Anakin's blue orbs.

"I would like to hate you," whispered Anakin, bringing their faces closer, until Obi-Wan could feel his breath on his mouth. "I wish I could hate you, I could hurt you, you know? I could rape you, get what I want, I could, I could, _I could_… hurt you, Obi-Wan, hurt you."

Obi-Wan didn't move, keeping his eyes on Anakin's. They looked hurt and furious, and Obi-Wan just didn't know what to do.

"Say something!" Anakin shook him again. "Please, tell me that you hate me, that you pity me... say something! I missed you so much when we were apart; but now you're here and it's even worse. Indifference, is that the only thing–"Anakin stopped, shaking his head.

And then, Obi-Wan understood it. If he wanted to save Anakin, if he wanted to protect him and make him smile, all he had to do was be honest with himself, even if that cost him more than he even had.

Obi-Wan cupped Anakin's face with both hands, and then closed the distance that separated them with a kiss. A short, inexpert and clumsy kiss, too hurried to be more than a desperate act, but a kiss Anakin corresponded in the same way.

"I love you," whispered Obi-Wan. He opened the eyes he didn't know he had closed, breathing fast against Anakin's red lips, and repeated it, "I love you, Anakin."

Obi-Wan didn't give Anakin time to open up a pair of surprised eyes, or to answer, searching for his lips again, needing them desperately. Where there had been doubts and fear, now there was just a raw desperation that palpitated with the same fast rhythm his heart did. He wasn't thinking, he was just needing and wanting, and it felt _good_. He was getting lost inside Anakin, and he never wanted to find himself again.

He let Anakin guide his lips expertly and slowly, transforming his desperation into a slow flame, which burned between tongues that fought to go from mouth to mouth. Anakin's arms embraced him, and Obi-Wan leaned forward, straddling his lap and bringing them closer. Anakin's lips started drawing a path from the back of his ear to his collarbone, meeting the excess of clothing that covered him.

Obi-Wan took a rebel lock away from Anakin's hair with a trembling hand, and then a pair of eyes fixed on his, big and vulnerable.

"You're trembling," whispered Anakin. Obi-Wan only realized it when Anakin pressed his palm to the small of his back, bringing them even closer.

Anakin took Obi-Wan's hand to his mouth, where he kissed his trembling fingers, and then the calloused palm. Obi-Wan touched his forehead to Anakin's, swallowing slowly and allowing his warm breath to caress Anakin's face.

Anakin kissed him again, slower, wetter, with a tangible vulnerability in soft lips that were starting to undo Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan felt his shields tremble, begging him to let them melt, to let them fuse with Anakin's chaotic mind. Obi-Wan just got as close as he could to Anakin, and took his face in his hands, letting their lips meet and separate so clumsily, and yet so perfectly, that it was almost scary.

Then Anakin moved his hips a little, making him notice for the first time the unconscious way in which his thighs were moving over Anakin's, searching for friction in a primitive, almost animal way. Anakin's hand held his hip, controlling the movement that was starting to find a rhythm, while his lips caressedObi-Wan's neck, letting a mischievous tongue lick his pulse point.

"Anakin…" The name rolled from his tongue easily, while he threw his head back, giving that wicked tongue more access to his skin. "Anakin – _Anakin…" _

Anakin smiled on Obi-Wan's neck, and it was then when strong knocking forced Obi-Wan to open his eyes. Obi-Wan had locked the room they used for their sessions, and the only ones who knew about that anyway, were Quinlan, Luminara and Mace. What was happening?

Anakin stared at him with dilated but surprised eyes, and Obi-Wan had to force himself to separate from the warm body. He palmed the door open, discovering a flushed Quinlan behind it.

"The Council…" murmured Quinlan, trying to catch his breath. "They want…"

"Quinlan, breath, what's going on?" Obi-Wan let Quinlan take a couple of big breaths, cursing him internally for mentioning the Council right now.

"They need you, Obi-Wan; the Chancellor has been kidnapped."

* * *


	19. Human nature

I'm terribly sorry this took so very long, but lately I've been, er... sidetracked with other stuff, and my Obi/Ani muses got a bit angry at me, I think. But they're back, so no worries there.

/hugs you all/

Monchy

---------------------------------------------------------

_Chapter XIX: Human nature_

"… Entre el pecado y la virtud

Prefiero lo que me haces tú…" _Bésame y calla, _Amistades Peligrosas

("… Between sin and virtue

I prefer what you do to me…")

"Can you pilot this?" Obi-Wan sat on the sit that belonged to the copilot, and looked forward, watching the space around them threw itself at him at top speed. The stars, bright and static, seemed to move endlessly while being passed by the ship – or, well, the _part_ of the ship – they were flying on. Obi-Wan felt a shiver go down his back when Coruscant entered his vision field.

Quinlan sat next to him, but Obi-Wan's eyes stayed fixed on the glass that separated them from the outer space. Quinlan's hands clutched the controls and, for an instant, his calm features tensed, giving him the aspect of a primitive creature trying to control a biggest predator.

"Quinlan?" Obi-Wan clutched his own controls, expecting an answer, or perhaps an instruction. When he didn't get it, he decided to use his common sense, and pulled from the controls, bringing them closer to his body. The operation didn't seem to have any effect. "Quinlan?"

"I guess I do." Quinlan's voice was a hoarse whisper, and it was enough to make Obi-Wan's light eyes look at him.

"You guess?"

Quinlan's lips curved in a mocking grin while he shrugged. His fingers, frantic, hit three buttons in one motion. "It's just a matter of touching buttons, Obi."

"Touching buttons?" Obi-Wan's hands clutched the controls even tighter, sweaty but firm on the cold material.

"Relax, I have everything under control."

Obi-Wan looked forward again, ignoring both Quinlan and Chancellor Palpatine, who looked at them from his seat with the same tranquility he used to posses when addressing the Senate. Obi-Wan dared to think that it was rather inappropriate of him to look so cold when he was in such a situation.

Then again, Quinlan had everything under control. Or at least that was what Obi-Wan hoped.

-----------------------------------------

Palpatine was home. Giving his back to a nervous Anakin, he watched the city of Coruscant from the same window he had been doing so for the past few years. He would have to keep this office once his plans had culminated; the view was rather charming. After all, there was no manual that forbid an evil genius from having a nice view of his possessions. It was recommendable, even.

He arched his lips in a gesture that didn't quite reach a smile, and turned around, facing young Anakin, who rambled about his latest problems. And oh, surprise, all that left the kid's mouth was Obi-Wan, Obi-Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan. Palpatine completed his smile. He hadn't needed two words to make Anakin confess every little detail of his melodramatic existence. An intolerable wife, an almost lover, a pair of hands stained with blood; complications and more complications. But before anything else, a deep preoccupation over his loved Jedi.

Regrettably, Obi-Wan had been harmed in his rescue mission. A mindless scratch on his shoulder; certainly nothing a man who had seen as many wars as Obi-Wan had would consider bad. Of course, Anakin didn't posses that bit of information. And after being ignored by the Order's healers, after being negated the right to see the object of his affections, what better idea than visiting his dear Chancellor? No one understood him better, no one listened more attentively, and no one had more information about the state of his loved one.

It was true that Anakin had had the delicacy of asking about his own well being before asking about Obi-Wan. And he had been sincere. Adorable.

Everything was going according to plan, except for a little detail that Palpatine hadn't noticed before. Barriers, in Anakin's mind. Weak, and certainly not something he couldn't trespass, but when had those appeared? How long would it take them to become stronger? Had Kenobi something to do with this? Indeed, when he searched Anakin's mind a little deeper, he found images from clandestine training sessions. Tsk, tsk, naughty Jedi. Nevertheless, this wasn't something that interfered with his plans, just something he would have to keep in mind.

Right now, though, all Palpatine had to do, was get Kenobi to fall into Anakin's arms once and for all. He had to admit that he had resisted for quite a long time. His only mission consisted on suggesting Anakin to wait for his darling Jedi in a place that he knew he was going to visit sooner or later. After all, Palpatine knew that Kenobi had given Anakin access to his personal quarters. Ah, how would Kenobi react if he knew who was acting as his personal Cupid?

-------------------------------------------------------

Anakin palmed the door to Obi-Wan's quarters open and entered them, letting the metallic door close behind him with a hiss. Obi-Wan had given him free access to his quarters, but Anakin had never set foot in them, not even during the days the Jedi had been away, facing who knows what dangers while rescuing the Chancellor. Of course, Anakin had been there the night before leaving for Naboo, but then he hadn't given himself the time to look around.

Obi-Wan's quarters had a reasonable size, not too small, not too big, they were extremely clean, and were very simple, besides being far too white for his own personal taste. Then again, a Jedi had no use for more extravagant colors. He wondered briefly if Master Vos' quarters hadn't suffered a change of color, perhaps an intense yellow like the one that crossed his face. Anakin smiled a little.

Although, what was more noticeable from the rooms was the fact that there was _nothing_ noticeable. Nothing; not a picture, a piece of clothing on a couch, a trinket, a flower, a datapad, something extra, a trace of life. _Nothing_. Anakin could swear that no one lived there. And still, Obi-Wan was more present there than in any other place he had been in the last few days. He stood on his tiptoes and inhaled, believing to grasp Obi-Wan's essence between those walls. It was probably an illusion, but Obi-Wan was there, somehow. Anakin could _feel him._

He entered the little kitchen and started searching through cupboards and cabinets. There were mugs, plates, silverware and some food; nothing strange there. Behind a white door and a few bowls filled with uncooked pasta, he found a bottle of some odd chocolate liqueur. He smiled, holding the bottle between his hands, and examining it with amused eyes. A proof that Obi-Wan was human, and that he lived there.

The bathroom was small, but it had all that was necessary. In a cabinet, which doors acted as a mirror, he found brushes, a few bacta patches and a hand lotion. He uncovered the lotion and smelled the clean aroma it expelled. For an instant, he imagined Obi-Wan's hands, hardened by years and years of holding a saber between them. Calloused but soft, marked to fit perfectly with the hilt of the weapon that was his life.

His room and his closet were the next logical stop. Anakin felt invasive for a few seconds, but soon enough curiosity beat him. After all, he didn't know all that much about Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan the everyday man, the one who spent long nights in that big bed, alone and tiny, and not the powerful Jedi who solved interplanetary conflicts.

The only clothing that Obi-Wan kept all looked alike, almost equal, to the ones he used to wear. Light and dark browns, and a black tunic. Curios, he would have never imagined Obi-Wan in black. There were also three pairs of boots, two brown ones and one black one, and a few pairs of wide comfy pants going from brown to white. Perhaps he should give him something red, something deep red. Anakin took one of the thicker tunics to his nose and inhaled. It smelled clean fresh, and it didn't hide Obi-Wan's smell. He dropped it and reached up, looking for something. Any common man kept some kind of dirty secret inside his closet, and Obi-Wan had proven to be quite normal in the latest inspection. After a while, he stumbled upon a small box, and brought it down with a smile between his lips.

There was a picture, a lightsaber and a small disk inside the box. The picture showed Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, just the way Anakin remembered him, tall and heroe-like. The lightsaber had probably belonged to him. The disk, though, the disk Anakin recognized.

_"I… um, I got something for you."_

_Obi-Wan looked up from his datapad and smiled at him. "Really?"_

_Anakin nodded, watching Obi-Wan stand up but not looking directly at him. "It's nothing, really." Anakin produced the little disk and showed it at Obi-Wan, who looked at it with interest. "It's just a part of an old droid, a memory disk."_

_"It has a beautiful color," murmured Obi-Wan, looking at the blue shiny disk that Anakin held between his fingers._

_"Yes, but… well, come." Anakin walked towards the balcony, not quite reaching it. Padmé had decided to work there today, and there was no point in spoiling the moment. When Obi-Wan joined him, Anakin lifted the disk so the sun hit it directly, and the blue shining changed to the deepest green one._

_"That's amazing." Obi-Wan looked at the disk, mesmerized, and Anakin smiled to himself._

_"And if you put it in the moonlight, it glows light grey." Anakin looked into Obi-Wan's eyes, as mesmerized by them as Obi-Wan had been by the disk. "Like it?"_

_"Yes, Anakin, very much."_

Anakin smiled, and then put the disk back into the box, next to the picture and the lightsaber. He covered it and returned it to its place.

Obi-Wan's bed didn't smell of him, either. Anakin fell on the huge bed, using it as a last spot. There was _something_ inside those rooms that screamed Obi-Wan, but it wasn't between the sheets, just as it hadn't been among his clothes, or even inside the box. Or maybe it had. Maybe it palpitated in every object, behind every wall, maybe that entire place was part of Obi-Wan, or Obi-Wan was part of it. Maybe, after all, something had changed inside Anakin. What other thing would he be feeling then, if not Obi-Wan's Force signature, imprinted inside this place?

He shook his head, and then buried his face on the pillow. That place was all Obi-Wan, and he felt safe in it.

---------------------------------------------------------

"I'm fine, I promise; stop fussing."

Luminara offered Obi-Wan an skeptic look and continued bandaging his shoulder. It was true that the wound was not serious, but Luminara was used to exaggerating when it came to Obi-Wan, given that the Master was willing to suffer huge amounts of pain rather than stepping on the hospital wing voluntarily. She would make him take some painkillers.

She ignored Obi-Wan's sigh and looked at her work, satisfied. "You looked awful when you came down from the ship." Luminara crossed both arms over her chest and looked at him directly, her penetrating blue eyes as serious as her tone. "You looked pale," she added as an afterthought.

"Because Quinlan decided to pilot the ship by touching random buttons."

Despite herself, Luminara half smiled. She wasn't known for her easy smile, but Quinlan could make a rock laugh with his sassy behavior.

"We got here, didn't we?" Quinlan looked at Obi-Wan, while passing his hand over his scruffy beard. "I had everything under control from the first moment."

Obi-Wan huffed, but Quinlan chose to smile at him. He stood up from his seat when Luminara motioned towards the bed, where he sat to be examined. Quinlan hadn't been harmed, but every accomplished mission required a mandatory physical examination.

"I'm ok, 'Nara."

Luminara shrugged, pointing some weird and scary object at him. "That was exactly what you said when you came back with a piece of metal inside your liver, Quinlan. Excuse me if I don't trust your judgment entirely."

Quinlan huffed and Obi-Wan smiled smugly at him. Quinlan repressed himself from sticking his tongue out at him when Luminara pointed a lantern at him. "Oh Force, I'm blind!"

Obi-Wan chuckled. "If you have finished torturing me," he murmured, talking to Luminara, "I better get going."

Luminara pointed at a plastic container, keeping her eyes fixed on Quinlan's. "Take another painkiller."

"Another one?"

"It will help you sleep, and you're going to need to if you're speaking with the Council tomorrow morning."

Obi-Wan groaned. "Almost forgotten about that."

----------------------------------------------------------

"Did you miss me terribly?" Quinlan batted his eyelashes prettily at Mace, and puckered his lips a little.

"No, I didn't. I finally got some peaceful moments."

Quinlan huffed, and put both hands on Mace's waist. "I'm going to assume you just said that because you're being stubborn and stupid, and because you're too proud to admit that you can't live a second without me." Mace arched an eyebrow, but let himself be pulled into Quinlan's embrace. "Right, pumpkin?"

"Are you going to believe me no matter what I say?"

"Probably, dearest, but if you say I'm wrong I might be forced to spank you."

Despite himself, Mace chuckled. "Are you alright?"

"Never been better, pudding," answered Quinlan, nuzzling Mace's neck.

"How's Obi-Wan?"

"Oh, he could be better. Then again, I'm hoping after this he will get his mission status recovered; he just saved the Chancellor, after all."

Mace leaned his forehead on Quinlan's shoulder and shrugged. "I'm afraid, at this moment, that that's Yoda's decision."

"Well, the little fellow always liked Obi."

"Did you just refer to Master Yoda as 'the little fellow'?"

"Oh, pudding, you are so proper. I love it."

-------------------------------------------------------

Obi-Wan took one step inside his quarters and, immediately, he felt Anakin. He couldn't see him, but he had become an expert at recognizing his presence, even if it wasn't as chaotic as it had been initially. Anakin was calm, because his Force waves were soft and constant. Obi-Wan exhaled, relieved. After his rushed goodbye under the Council's orders, Obi-Wan didn't know exactly where he stood on in regards to Anakin.

"Anakin?"

He got no answer, not that time nor the other three he pronounced his name aloud. Worried for no particular reason, he walked through his quarters and entered his bedroom where, laying on his bed, Anakin was sleeping. Obi-Wan smiled. While walking towards the bed, he tripped with Anakin's boots, which had been abandoned carelessly on the floor. Repressing an impulse of putting them away, he kept walking towards the bed, and sat on its edge.

Anakin's chest ascended and descended rhythmically with his slow breathing, his hair covered his face, and the sheets surrounded his legs in incomprehensible twists. It was one of the few times Obi-Wan hand seen Anakin completely relaxed. Anakin's hands were always moving, nervous and frantic, and his eyes never stayed in the same spot for too long. Even when he was sleeping, Anakin was never still. He never seemed to fully rest, but in that instant, Obi-Wan would have swore that Anakin was an untroubled young man.

Obi-Wan was moving a rebel lock away from Anakin's face before he managed to realize he was doing it. Anakin's eyes twitched for a second, but they stayed closed. Obi-Wan considered waking him up for a minute, but he decided that he liked the image of Anakin sleeping too much to do it.

He stood up, got rid of his tunic and his boots, and then walked into the bathroom, where he wet his face with cold water. He let the cold drops fall down his face for a while before drying them with a white towel, and stopped in front of the mirror to look at himself. He didn't look all that bad, but the lines under his eyes spoke of his lack of sleep.

"Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan had felt Anakin wake up before his voice had invaded the room. He had even heard his bare feet tiptoeing on the grey carpet, but he wasn't able to stop the surprised shake of his shoulders.

He turned around, and almost unconsciously, he smiled. "Anakin."

Anakin threw his arms around him, clutching his shoulders and burying his face in his neck. Obi-Wan surrounded his waist instinctively, and for a second, he had the impression of having traveled to the past. Qui-Gon didn't hug him frequently, but a serious wound, some time in the hospital wing or some obtained goal were always good reasons to be held within his strong embrace. Anakin was even as tall as Qui-Gon had been, and Obi-Wan had to avoid the old childish thought that made him wonder if he would have to stand on his tiptoes to be able to reach his lips.

Anakin didn't seem too willing to let him go in a near future, so it was Obi-Wan who shook his shoulders and moved away from the younger one's figure, looking up until he met Anakin's blue eyes. He kept his gaze on them and then, he left the room. Anakin followed him a few steps behind, and when Obi-Wan sat on the edge of the bed, Anakin sat next to him.

Obi-Wan found a loose strand on his pants and pulled from it, not letting his hands tremble, as they used to do when Anakin was around. He waited, not looking at Anakin, whishing he could just get in bed with him and sleep for a very long period. He felt as if he hadn't slept in ages, and the painkillers he had taken weren't helping at all with that.

"Are you alright?"

Obi-Wan looked up at Anakin, watching him with half-lidded eyes. "Yes, I'm fine, Anakin."

Anakin nodded, entwining his fingers and pressing his thumbs nervously. "They wouldn't let me into the hospital wing, and I didn't know if you were ok and… and… are you sure you're ok?"

"How are _you?_"

Anakin leaned one hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, caressing the bandages that covered his wound. "I'm fine." Trembling fingers opened Obi-Wan's clothing, and descended down the white bandage, trying not to press on the hurt places. "Does it hurt?"

"I've taken enough painkillers to make an elephant sleep. So no, it doesn't hurt."

Anakin's hands entertained themselves a little longer with the bandages and, finally, they ascended to Obi-Wan's face, touching soft lips, half-closed eyes and messy locks of reddish hair. When Anakin started getting closer, to descend his face towards his, Obi-Wan stayed still, almost hypnotized. Because Anakin was sublimely beautiful, but also sublimely terrifying, as nothing had ever been in his life. Anakin and all that surrounded him, all that he was, was so terribly new that it made Obi-Wan's hands tremble when they held the face that hadn't quite reached his.

"What do you want, Obi-Wan?"

"I don't… _I don't know _what I want. I always know, but I don't… I just don't know."

"I've never been so sure of anything in my entire life."

And when Anakin's lips touched his, Obi-Wan thought he should be considering Padmé, the Council, his life; but he wasn't. On the contrary, his lips were moving by themselves, meeting Anakin's slowly, almost languidly.

Anakin pushed him against the mattress, or perhaps it was he himself who pulled him into it, but all he was able to register was Anakin's weight above him. His lips stayed against Anakin's, now immersed in long and clumsy kisses, all teeth and tongue, rushed, and ready to finish just to start all over again. It was easy, incredibly simple, to let go into that internal sensation that screamed Anakin, Anakin, Anakin continuously.

Anakin rose himself a little on his knees and then pushed back against his hips, strongly but slowly, and Obi-Wan found himself meeting the motion, fitting and unfitting himself with Anakin in a hypnotic cadence. His hands had found a piece of hot skin on Anakin's back, but he only felt the sweaty touch under his fingertips when Anakin moaned inside his mouth.

Obi-Wan had imagined it – and yes, he had imagined it – long and slow, but this was frantic and rushed, urgent, almost brute. But he wanted it this way, with Anakin's scent intoxicating around him, and Anakin moving against him, moaning, asking for more with aggressive kisses, consuming him. It was primitive, almost disgusting, but Obi-Wan wouldn't have had it in any other way.

He was still terrified, scared of his own human nature, but he knew all he had to do was clutch Anakin a little tighter, a little bit closer, to get lost in this pleasurable madness. And now, just now, he knew he couldn't stop, he knew he didn't _want_ to stop, not this, or anything else.

Anakin's name abandoned his parted lips, and then there was rest, and Anakin warm by his side, and a bed that didn't feel all that big anymore.


End file.
